


The Camp in the Woods

by theinsideoutmermaid



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinsideoutmermaid/pseuds/theinsideoutmermaid
Summary: Eowyn is dropped off with her brother Eomer at the mysterious Camp Rivendell for the summer. She must navigate making new friends, falling in love, and wielding the power of the golden ring she finds in the lake. But something dark lurks in the woods, and Eowyn isn't used to magic. With the help of her new friends, will she be able to save the camp?
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. Camp Rivendell

Eowyn and Eomer stood on the side of the road. Eomer had long since dropped his duffel bag on the ground. Eowyn still held hers, though the handle dug a sweaty line into her palm. Possibly she didn’t want to get it dirty, although it was just as likely she was persisting out of pride—whatever shred of pride that comes from people being like, wow, she’s still holding her duffel bag after all this time even though her arms must be so tired and her hands so sweaty, which is of course what everyone thinks when they come upon a girl holding a duffel bag on the side of a road.

A mosquito bite on her thigh had started itching, so Eowyn rubbed it against the rough canvas of her bag. She allowed herself the smallest of sighs.

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” said Eomer. Fifteen minutes since Grima dropped them off here; fifteen minutes without a single other car passing by or any sign of life from the woods, not even a squirrel. If Grima had actually cooked this up as part of a grand plan to get rid of them, well, thus far it seemed to be working.

Eowyn inspected the wooden sign in front of which she and her brother stood. It read “Camp Rivendell.” The font took strange curves and unusual corners, more flourishy than one would expect to see carved into a few two-by-fours in the middle of nowhere. But the style fit the fantastical, British-sounding name of the camp. 

“The sign looks in good repair,” noted Eowyn. “So the camp probably actually exists.”

“Thanks for the input, Sherlock,” said Eomer. “Wish we had a fucking phone signal.” He smacked his cell phone against his hand a few times in case that would spark a connection.  
“Do you think we should try going in and looking for someone?”

“You see a path in there?” Eowyn turned and studied the forest, as her brother was doing. The underbrush did seem to cover the ground quite uniformly without even a hint of a footpath. Eomer continued, “I say we wait until a car comes by and then catch a ride to the nearest town. Stay at a hostel or bus around the coast for six weeks.”  
“I don’t think our allowance would cover that.”

Eomer cursed Grima heartily for being so tight-fisted with their uncle’s money.

“I wish we could have stayed home with Uncle,” said Eowyn. “I worry about him. Do you notice he seemed like he was getting sick? And he’s not thinking straight. Spending recklessly.”

“It’s Grima’s fault, I’m sure of it,” interrupted Eomer. “Ever since he hired that worm, Uncle hasn’t been the same.”

“And with both of us going to college soon, it’s going to be tough,” Eowyn continued. Their hatred of Grima was a well-worn topic between them. Normally she would have shut down Eomer’s griping, because griping doesn’t solve anything, but it was so hot that they had to gripe about something.  
Eowyn and Eomer were often mistaken for twins, even though Eomer was a year older. It had something to do with the wavy wheat-gold hair and the determined set of the jaw, the challenging eyes. And the names, of course. They seemed very much like they belonged in a set. Soon, though, that set would be broken. Eomer was seventeen; he had to start applying to colleges in just a few months. At least, their Uncle had yelled at him to do so, repeating whatever twisted words Grima had surely whispered in his ear. Eowyn thought it more likely that her brother would take a gap year. He was a good enough student and a hard worker, but he wasn’t cut out for the scholarly life. Eomer was more of a wanderer, always in motion. Eowyn, however, knew she would go to college. She would move up and get out, maybe get a STEM degree, something that meant she could support herself forever. And she’d never again be within Grima’s reach.

Eomer shifted, kicked at his duffel bag on the ground.

“We’ll give it nine more minutes,” said Eowyn, checking the time on her phone. “And if no one comes by then, we can hitchhike to town like you said.”

“Why nine?”

“Because that gets us to four o’clock.”

“Hmph.”

The minutes passed humidly. They pressed heavy and wet, Eowyn checking her phone almost constantly—Has it really been just thirty seconds—Eomer fidgeting, shifting foot to foot. She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen. Or what she wanted to happen. 

At 3:58, someone behind them said, “Are you two here for Camp Rivendell?”

The siblings jumped in tandem. There in the woods stood a boy, perhaps a little older than Eomer. It was unclear from where he had come, and how he had moved so quietly through the underbrush. He looked sort of brown and dirty and also rather attractive. 

“Oh—yes,” said Eowyn, finding her voice. 

“Eowyn and Eomer, I assume?” continued the boy. Eowyn was pleasantly surprised to hear him pronounce their names correctly. “You were the only two left on the attendance sheet, so I figured, you know. I’m Aragorn, by the way, one of the counselors here.” And he stuck out his hand for them to shake. It struck Eowyn as sort of old-fashioned. She had to shift her duffel bag to free up her correct hand. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” Aragorn said, looking concerned. 

Eomer opened his mouth, but Eowyn very quickly said, “Oh no, not at all.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I’ve been in the shade all day; I didn’t realize how hot it was in the sun. Why don’t you follow me back to camp? Oh—I can carry that for you, if you’d like,” said Aragorn, gesturing at Eowyn’s bag. 

“No! No thanks. I got it.”

“Alright. Just come with me. It’s not too long of a walk. Watch out for poison ivy.”

At first Eowyn could see no rhyme or reason to where Aragorn led them. She thought about what it would be like if Aragorn were actually a serial killer and they were following him to his murder grove, then dismissed the thought because he seemed too nice, then remembered that a lot of serial killers were considered charming to women. But it became clear to her that they were, indeed, on a path. It was faint, and often interrupted with mosses and tree roots, but Aragorn moved along it confidently. Eowyn noticed the shape of his shoulders and forearms. When she noticed her own noticing, she hastily redirected her attention to the ground. Leaves of three, leave it be. She wasn’t really sure what poison ivy looked like.

Aragorn evidently was not the chatty type. Their walk passed in relative silence save for the rustlings and creakings of the forest. It was a long enough walk that, at several points, Eowyn considered taking advantage of having an older brother who loved her and making Eomer carry her duffel. Just as her arms were about to give out for good, the path widened and cleared. Ahead of the trio stood a wooden archway, two tall posts and a crossbar engraved with the same font as the sign from earlier. 

“Welcome home,” Aragorn said, gesturing at the camp.

Beyond the archway was a large clearing of packed earth. Four cabins—two larger and two smaller—surrounded a central stone firepit ringed with logs. Eowyn could just see behind the largest cabin a toolshed and what appeared to be a vegetable garden. The modest settlement was quite empty except for an old man and a girl who were sitting on one of the logs. Both of them stood as Aragorn, Eowyn, and Eomer approached.

“These are our last two campers, hm?” said the old man. His hair and beard both reached nearly to his waist. His voice was gruff, but Eowyn could see deep smile lines around his mouth and eyes, which made him look kinder. “You’re late! Everyone else arrived hours ago.”

“Gandalf, introduce yourself,” prompted the girl gently.

“I hardly need to now, do I? Oh, very well. I’m Gandalf, and you may call me Gandalf. I am the director of this camp. You are?”

Eowyn and Eomer introduced themselves.

“I’m Arwen,” said the girl. “Head counselor here.” She extended a slender hand for them to shake. “Everyone else is at the lake,” Arwen explained. “Let’s put your stuff away and then we can join them.”

“I want you back by seven for dinner,” Gandalf said.

Aragorn tapped his watch. “I’ll keep an eye on the time.”

He led Eomer to one of the smaller cabins, while Eowyn followed Arwen to the other. It was dim inside despite the afternoon sun still blazing determinedly. This probably had something to do with the fact that the entire interior was paneled in dark wood, and there were only two small windows. The cabin looked almost exactly how Eowyn would have imagined a summer camp cabin to look. There were two bunk beds bedecked with quilts that were probably fashionable in the seventies, a braided rug, and a few roughly hewn chairs and wardrobes. A ceiling fan put-putted overhead.

“We should get some box fans from the house later,” said Arwen. “It gets so humid.” The ceiling fan indeed did little to move the air around.

“Um, which bed is mine?” asked Eowyn.

Arwen pointed to the bunk on the left. “That one! I mean the whole thing. It’s just the two of us this year in the girls’ cabin. Which is nice. I was alone last year and that got boring. I keep telling Gandalf we should just go coed with the housing because there’s so few of us, but he’s pretty old-fashioned.”

Eowyn slung her duffel onto the bottom bunk. She didn’t feel like climbing at the moment. “Should I unpack now, or—?”

“Oh, you can do that later. You should put on a swimsuit. The water’s actually really warm today.”

Eowyn thought Arwen might leave, but instead, she began taking clothes out of her own partially unpacked suitcase and stowing them in one of the wardrobes. After a moment, Arwen caught Eowyn’s gaze. 

“Oh! Did you forget to bring one? You can borrow one of mine,” Arwen said, reaching for the top drawer.

“No, no, I’ve got my own,” said Eowyn hastily. Apparently Arwen did, in fact, expect Eowyn to start stripping in front of her. This is what having a roommate is like, I guess, thought Eowyn. She turned her back to Arwen and proceeded to change, all the while attempting to expose herself as little as possible. It took a lot of wobbling on one foot. Judging by the sounds, Arwen was still unpacking and seemed entirely unbothered by the situation. Eowyn pulled her shorts and tee back on over her swimsuit.

“You ready?” Arwen shut the drawer, which made a horrible screeching noise. “We’ve got towels in the shed by the lake. Let’s join the boys.”


	2. The Lake

Aragorn and Eomer were waiting by the firepit when the girls emerged. Again, Aragorn led the way into the woods, but Eowyn thought she probably could have made it on her own this time. There was a wooden sign tacked to one of the trees bordering the clearing that helpfully read "Lake," and pointed them down a certain path into the woods. For there was actually a path, unlike from the road to the camp. This struck Eowyn as somewhat odd, but she figured perhaps the lake was just extremely popular, and years and years of children's feet had worn away all the moss.

As they walked, Arwen kept up a steady conversation.

"What grade are you in?" she asked Eomer and Eowyn.

"Senior," said Eomer, and added, "in high school."

"I think they could probably tell," muttered Eowyn, just so he could hear, and he kicked the side of her leg. "I'm a junior."

"Ooh, tough years for both of you, but so fun. A lot changes. Make the most of high school, but I have to tell you, college is so much nicer." Arwen turned around and walked backward for a bit so she could face them. "Have you started looking at schools yet, Eomer?"

"No, not yet," he said, and did not elaborate.

Arwen had enough social graces not to question him further. She asked about where they came from. 

"Small city called Rohan," said Eowyn. "Great Plains, all that. Not the most exciting place."

"There sure is a lot of grass, though," said Eomer.

"What about you two?" asked Eowyn, deciding she would jump in before Arwen, in her well-meaning way, asked about their family, which she was not sure Eomer could handle in a polite way. "Where do you go to school?"

"I'm going to Oxford," said Arwen. She did not say it to brag, Eowyn could tell, just stating facts. That was a welcome change, thought Eowyn. People tended to either exaggerate their achievements or downplay them in an awkward way, instead of just saying things how they were. Aragorn, she noticed, stiffened just slightly when Arwen said it.

"I'm taking a gap year," said Aragorn. "I'm going to travel, volunteer, learn more languages, hopefully." He looked straight ahead, deliberately, it seemed, not returning the look that Arwen gave him. There's something going on there, Eowyn thought. But she wasn't sure how she was going to find out until she made some friends at the camp. And that was quite a hurdle.

"A gap year?" said Eomer, his face lighting up. "How did you decide on that?"

"Well, I thought I'd like to do some good in the world, for one thing, and get work experience. It gives me some time to figure out where my true interests lie. But mostly, I want to understand the world that I live in—the whole world, not just my hometown, my home country. I need to grow myself if I'm to be of any use to others in the future."

This, Eowyn noted, was a fairly grandiose statement coming from a boy not much older than her brother, and yet it seemed natural coming from Aragorn's mouth. Then she thought she should not think about his mouth.

"What do you plan to study, Arwen?" she asked, to distract herself.

"I applied as an environmental studies and international relations major." Again, casually, just stating facts.

"That's quite a combination."

"I want to advise governments on conservation and the fight against climate change."

"What made you choose Oxford? Are you scared to move to another country?"

"I knew it would provide me with the level of education I'm hoping for. Also, sometimes you need a change." Her voice turned quite bitter as she said this, and Eowyn exchanged a wide-eyed glance with her brother. Both of them had the feeling that they'd somehow walked into an argument, although they knew neither what it was about nor who, really, the opposing parties were.

But they did not have to worry about the awkwardness much longer, for ahead of them the trees thinned, and Eowyn could see snatches of blue between the trunks. The forest spilled out onto a rocky lakeshore. It was a modestly sized lake—the other side was well within view, so it wasn't at all like the Great Lakes, which Eowyn and Eomer had sometimes visited with their uncle, before ... well, before. Still, Eowyn was pleased to see that it was clean and sparkling blue, not muddy like the small lakes she found around her hometown. She didn't mind mud, and she certainly wasn't afraid to get dirty, but there was something about the bright water that was much more appealing.

Now she could see that Arwen was telling the truth—if the motley group scattered in and around the lake truly comprised the rest of the camp, then she and Arwen were the only girls. There were three people in the lake: one boy close to Eomer's age playing with two younger boys. On the shore, two other young boys lounged together, while two older ones—they had to be counselors, as they were wearing staff shirts—kept watch over the proceedings, presumably acting as lifeguards, although there were none of those lifeguard towers about. Aragorn immediately sped ahead of their group to sit with the counselors. One of them was a very tall, willowy boy, with hair so blond it looked almost white. The other was much shorter and stockier and had shockingly red hair. Combined with Aragorn, they made a very interesting trio indeed.  
Eowyn looked at Eomer, who was looking at the lake. She had the sudden and overwhelming urge to force her brother to stay at her side, but before she could open her mouth, he was wading in, evidently having decided that the kid his age would be a suitable friend.

"Come with me and we can get towels," Arwen told her. Eowyn, feeling rather like she had started a new school, followed obediently, having no idea of what else to do. Arwen led her to a ramshackle shed, which was locked with a combination lock. "It's 13-27-9, by the way, in case you ever need to get in yourself," Arwen said as she spun the dial this way and that.

Eowyn repeated the number in her head a few times until she had it memorized. The shed, once opened, released a smell that was quintessentially summer camp shed-ish: musty, woody, with a hint of mildew. The towels, which clearly had once been brightly colored and had now faded almost to pastels, had absorbed the same scent.

Arwen laid hers out on the shore and immediately stripped off her t-shirt and shorts. Now in just her swimsuit, she headed to the water. Eowyn put her towel down next to Arwen's, but did not change yet. She watched her brother in the lake for a few minutes. He and the other boy seemed to be getting along famously already—they were playing keep-away with the younger ones, rather easily keeping the ball away. Steeling herself, Eowyn arose and walked over to where the young boys were on the shore. She thought they might be in middle school, as they were quite short. _Am I reduced to befriending eighth-graders?_ she said to herself as she went, and then, _I ought to introduce myself to everyone anyway, as we are going to be spending the entire summer together._

One of the boys was blond, and the other was dark. The blond one looked up at Eowyn's approach, and after a moment, the dark one closed the notebook he had been writing in and acknowledged her, too.

"Hello there," said the blond one.

"Hi, I'm Eowyn," she said, and stuck out her hand after a moment. She didn't know why—well, Aragorn had done it when he met them, maybe it was a custom here. Luckily the boy took her hand without a moment's hesitation and gave it a hearty shake.

"I'm Sam, and this is Frodo," he said. Eowyn liked him immediately, because he gave off a generally welcoming air. The other one—Frodo—was a bit unsettling, for he had enormous blue eyes which stared unblinking at the world around him. Eowyn offered her hand to him, too, and he shook it gently.

"Would you like a chip?" asked Sam, producing from inside the knapsack beside him an open bag of potato chips.

"Actually, yes, thank you," Eowyn replied, for she realized she was indeed quite hungry. Sam took out a few napkins as well, and he shook out three portions of chips, one for each of them. And so it was that Eowyn sat on the shore, eating chips with her strange new friends.

As it turned out, Sam and Frodo were only a grade below her. Sam remarked that most people thought they were younger, especially Frodo. Eowyn could understand why, as there was something babyish about his face, especially the eyes. They knew each other from outside of camp, and they knew the younger boys who were playing with Eomer—Merry and Pippin, their names were. All four of them came from the same town.

"How long have you been coming to this camp?"

"Oh, a few years now," said Sam. "Frodo was going to be sent off alone, so we all begged our parents to let us come, too. And that was a good choice. You'll love it here, I'm sure."

Eowyn crunched her last chip and wiped her greasy fingers on the napkin, which she balled up and stuffed in a pocket, seeing no trash can in the vicinity. "I think I'm going to go swimming now. That's my brother out there, by the way," she said.

"He looks a lot like you," said Frodo.

"We get that a lot." Eowyn stood. "Are you coming, too?"

"No, we'll stay here. We aren't much good at ball games like that," said Sam.

"I don't think the point is to be good, necessarily. It's more to get wet and splash your opponents as much as possible," Eowyn laughed.

"Not really my thing," said Frodo.

"Okay. It was really nice to meet you both. Thanks for the chips, Sam." Eowyn departed for her towel where it lay next to Arwen's. She self-consciously stepped out of her shorts, but elected to keep on the t-shirt. The water was probably cold, anyway. It often was, in places like this.

She picked her way carefully to the lake, stepping gingerly over the rocks, now that she was barefooted. The water was bitterly cold, but after a moment her feet began to numb, and then it was tolerable. Compared to sweating on the side of the road, Eowyn would take this any day.

Eomer saw her coming and lobbed the ball her way. Taken by surprise, Eowyn stepped out of the way, but was hit instead by the splash of the ball landing in the water. She gasped like a fish when the cold water touched her body. Standing stock-still, she felt a steady, freezing drip onto her nose from a wayward strand of hair. Then she collected herself and the ball.

"Fuck you, Eomer," she called, and whipped it back at him. She had aimed it so that it would land a few feet in front of him and skid, sending an enormous quantity of water splashing over him. The other boy, the one she didn’t know anything about yet, let out a delighted laugh.

Eowyn continued her slog toward where the boys had gathered. The water reached past her waist now, and she tensed at each wave that sent it lapping ever higher.

“So you’re the sister,” said the other boy when she arrived. He had a handsome, arrogant face and an athlete’s bearing.

“Eowyn,” she said.

“I’m Boromir.”

Eowyn did not offer to shake his hand, as she was too busy keeping her arms crossed over her chest, above the waterline. She turned to the younger boys.

"Alright, which one of you is Merry and which is Pippin? I met Sam and Frodo on the shore—they told me your names."

"I'm Merry," said the shorter one.

Boromir grabbed that one in a good-natured headlock. "No, he's Pippin. Pip is our resident jokester. Be careful around this one."

Pippin—apparently—wriggled around in the headlock until he got free.

"You know,” said Boromir, nodding at Eowyn, "it gets better if you just go under."

Eowyn looked at him for a moment. Then she dropped below the waves.

As she did so, she realized it was an awful, awful choice, for the cold was almost suffocating—was this lake fed by mountain streams or something? She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stay under for as long as she could hold her breath. Which time was not altogether too long, for she had let out half of the breath she'd taken in a gasp as soon as the cold hit her. When she surfaced, spluttering slightly, Boromir looked impressed.

"She actually did it!"

"Madwoman," said Eomer, shaking his head. "She'll take any dare. I've gotten her to do much worse."

"You'll notice none of us have actually gone under," said the boy who must be Merry, by process of elimination.

"Hair's not wet," added Pippin.

"Well," said Eowyn breathlessly, for she was still getting her lungs back under control, "you all ought to try it. It's extraordinarily refreshing." She thought, even though what she had just done was stupid and prideful—Uncle had lectured her about this before—that she might have just scored some points with the boys. And she had an idea as to how to score more.

She tackled Eomer into the water.

He had barely a moment to yell before they were both crashing under the surface. He burst upward immediately, teeth chattering.

Merry and Pippin appeared to enjoy the idea immensely, and they both jumped onto Boromir at once. Though he weighed probably twice as much as either of them, the younger boys working in tandem were able to topple him, and all three went tumbling into the water. A merry fight ensued, which ended with Boromir lifting Pippin as though he were a child and flinging him a good six feet. Eowyn began to worry when he didn't resurface immediately, but then Pippin stuck his head up again, and he was grinning madly.

The ball game became much more intense after that. Now that they had all been under, they were willing to go under again, and so there was much more diving and tackling involved in the game. Eowyn joined Merry and Pippin's team, and she played with a particular concentration on causing Eomer as much grief as possible, which he gladly reciprocated. 

It was only when Arwen swam up next to her that Eowyn even remembered she had been in the lake, too.

"Having fun?" asked Arwen, and Eowyn jumped, because Arwen was a nearly silent swimmer.

"Oh—yes," Eowyn said, embarrassed. "Um. You too?"

"Yes, I love swimming. Aragorn's waving us back in now, though."

Eowyn turned to look at the shore. Indeed, the people on dry land had packed up their things and stood grouped together, watching the ball game in the lake. With the pause in the game, Eowyn realized she was quite exhausted, not to mention chilled to the bone.

It was much less painful to walk over the rocks on the beach when one's feet were numb. Eowyn dried herself as best she could with her towel—she realized, with the accuracy of hindsight, that it would have been smarter to swim without her shirt on, so that she would have dry clothes to change into. Alas, she had let self-consciousness govern her decisions, and now she would pay the price, said price being the discomfort of being stuck in a mess of very cold, damp fabric. Eowyn hoped the sun, which still beat hot onto the ground below, would do its job and speed the drying process.

The campers, all eleven of them, formed a straggly parade back onto the forest trail. Aragorn was at the front again, walking with his counselor friends. The four youngest boys fell in together, chatting animatedly. Even Frodo seemed to light up with Merry and Pippin's residual energy. Eomer and Boromir were together, coming back from the shed with towels of their own. By default, rather than by choice or desire, Eowyn ended up walking with Arwen.

"You'll like tonight," said Arwen. "Gandalf always puts on a show the first night."

"A show?" Eowyn imagined the strange old man doing a song and dance for them, and she found that image incredibly off-putting.

"You'll see. It's really good. And we have a huge bonfire with lots of good food."

"Will it be on sticks?" Eowyn asked earnestly. She had not been to summer camp before, and her concept of it included roasting food on sticks over open flames.

"Well, I'm sure we'll make s'mores, but Gandalf cooks all the meals for us in the big house. His spaghetti and meatballs is legendary."

"Oh." Eowyn felt a little stupid now. 

They walked in silence for a while. Eowyn listened to the snatches of conversation coming from the quartet ahead of them and Boromir and Eomer behind them. She wished uselessly that she had gone ahead with Merry and Pippin.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable for Eowyn, but she thought it had gone on so long that by now the socially acceptable thing to do would be to continue not talking. Arwen, however, started the conversation again, without a trace of awkwardness. She asked Eowyn about her favorite subjects in school, what she did for fun, if she had started thinking about college—here, Arwen offered to help her with applications when the time came, which seemed absurdly generous to Eowyn—what she usually did over the summer, and the like. Eowyn was not used to being asked so much about herself, and equally unused to saying so much about herself, especially to an interested party. Grima didn't like her to talk at all, and Uncle was too preoccupied to listen nowadays. It was sort of nice, but it also made Eowyn feel guilty, as she thought she should give Arwen a chance to talk as well. But the other girl seemed perfectly happy to hear Eowyn's life story.

The sun was beginning to set as the group reached the clearing with all the buildings. A massive wooden picnic table had been dragged next to the fire pit—how Gandalf had done that on his own was beyond Eowyn—and it was set with plates, cups, and red checkered napkins. Those who had been swimming went to change into dry clothes. Arwen showed Eowyn the clothesline strung up on the side of their cabin. She took a few clothespins from a pouch nailed to the wall and hung her swimsuit and shirt.

When they returned to the picnic table, Gandalf was there. He followed Sam around the table with a pitcher, filling the cups that Sam placed down with water.

Eowyn studied the seating arrangement at the table and began doing some very quick mental calculations. There were twelve of them, including Gandalf, so six people would sit on each side. Frodo sat alone on one end, but Eowyn assumed the seat across from him would be taken by Sam. On the other end, Aragorn sat facing the two other counselors, the ones whose names she had yet to learn. Eomer seemed likely to sit with Boromir, as the two were becoming fast friends. Eowyn strode decisively toward Frodo's end of the table, although her heart pounded with nerves. _You're being stupid,_ she told herself. _You've already eaten chips with them, and you're older and by default cooler, so they should by all means accept you sitting next to them._

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked Frodo. Sam had just finished his rounds and was settling into the seat across from Frodo, as she had predicted.

"Of course not." He scooted a little further to the edge of the bench, although there was already plenty of room for her. 

"How was the lake?" asked Sam.

"Well, cold."

"I thought you were very brave for jumping in like that. I never swim if I can help it. I barely float, for one thing."

"And Sam likes to be comfortable," added Frodo with a soft smile.

"Nothing wrong with that," Sam said defensively.

"Absolutely not." Eowyn watched as Gandalf approached the table, a huge casserole dish in each arm. "Are we supposed to be helping to set the table? I saw you putting out the cups."

"There's no need. Sam just likes to help out in the kitchen. Gandalf really does all the cooking and washing-up though," explained Frodo.

"Hmm," said Eowyn. No one else was making a move to come to Gandalf's aid, so she told herself she didn't need to feel bad about it.

Sam and Frodo waved, and Eowyn looked up to see Merry and Pippin tripping down from the boys' cabin. Merry settled in next to her, and Pippin across from her. They made no indication that she was intruding in their friend group. Apparently her antics in the lake had paid off.

Amidst the shuffling around and the claiming of napkins and utensils, Eowyn saw Arwen slide in next to Aragorn. He didn't look at her, but shifted to the very edge of the bench, so that there was a gap of space between them. 

Eomer and Boromir arrived next, Boromir flashing Eowyn a grin as he sat next to Pippin. He punched Pippin in the shoulder as though in greeting, and Pippin looked delighted. That left Eomer to sit next to Gandalf. He did not look altogether enthused by this prospect, crowding Merry a bit in an attempt to avoid touching the camp director.

"So," said Gandalf, and everyone quieted down and looked to him expectantly. "Thus begins another summer of Camp Rivendell. I hope you'll all get to know each other well, and treat each other well, and that none of you drown in the lake. Legolas would have to rescue you, and that's something none of us want to see." Aragorn grinned at the blond counselor, so Eowyn figured that must be Legolas. "Yes, and curfew is at ten, lights out at eleven, no funny business, you know the drill. Listen to your counselors, et cetera, et cetera. Now," Gandalf said, and banged his fork on the table. "Let's eat!"

The array of food in front of them was slightly astonishing. There were indeed spaghetti and meatballs, as Arwen had promised, laden with tomato sauce and parmesan. There was also a tray of hot dogs, a tray of chicken kebabs, two bowls of salad (one fruit, one regular), several pitchers of unidentified beverages (was that coke? In a pitcher? Eowyn had never seen anyone do that before), and here and there were scattered bags of different types of chips, all off-brand but recognizable imitations of name-brand chips. It was altogether too much food for thirteen people—even if that group included Eomer, who Eowyn had once seen eat an entire pizza by himself. Gandalf must have been in the kitchen all day to prepare this feast.

The trays began to be passed around the table, and many arms reached in to snag a bag of chips or to take one of the mysterious pitchers. Eowyn sniffed the contents of the pitcher that landed in her hands. It was clear, but smelled like it had to be Sprite. She raised her face from inside the pitcher to find Boromir smirking at her.

"What?" she said. "I've gotta be sure no one is trying to poison me."

"I'm not laughing at you, I promise," said Boromir. "It's very wise. Pippin tried to poison me at least three times last summer. I'd watch your cup if I were you." He winked.

The conversation was lively. Sam, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin were all deep in discussion about some video game they played. Boromir and Eomer were talking about baseball and their predictions for the fall's football season. Legolas and the short counselor seemed to be arguing over something, and Aragorn, Arwen, and Gandalf were having some sort of philosophical debate. Eowyn decided she could best insert herself into the video game conversation. 

As the food and drink flowed and the conversation along with it, Eowyn felt more and more comfortable in the group. She leaned in over the table so she could talk more quietly, as there were some questions she had been meaning to ask.

"Can I ask you something? About camp—well, the people here?" she said to the boys.

"Sure," replied Sam.

"We know everything there is to know about everyone," boasted Pippin. "We've been coming here for four summers now."

"Okay, well—first, what's that counselor's name? The redheaded one that's arguing with Legolas?"

"Well, that's not a very interesting question," said Merry, sounding disappointed. "His name's Gimli."

"Thanks. He's just the only one whose name I didn't know yet. But I have to ask—" Here, Eowyn leaned in even closer and dropped her voice lower. "Do you know what's going on—or, I guess, if there's anything going on between Aragorn and Arwen?"

"Do we ever!" said Pippin, his eyes lighting up. The other boys looked equally excited, even Frodo. Clearly, Eowyn had hit upon a spot of interesting gossip.

"You see," continued Pippin, "they were dating."

"Were," repeated Eowyn.

"That's right. And they were really serious, too. It had been, like—what was it? Three years?"

"I heard since middle school," said Sam.

"Something insane like that."

"I can't imagine dating anyone in middle school," said Eowyn. "I can hardly imagine dating anyone in high school, precisely because I know what they were like in middle school."

"They're just like that, though," said Merry, and he didn't have to explain what he meant by "like that."

"So they've been dating for ages, and I don't know, we all think they're probably going to get married or whatever. I mean, you date someone for three years, you're practically already married, right?" said Pippin. "But then. College. And it all goes downhill."

"It's because Arwen's going overseas. Did she tell you? Arwen is going to Oxford," explained Sam.

"Yes, it was one of the first things she told me about herself," said Eowyn.

"Figures," said Pippin.

"And Aragorn is taking a gap year, I know," said Eowyn. "But loads of people do long distance, don't they?"

"Exactly. It's what we could never understand," Sam said. "Either Aragorn balked, or he was getting fed up anyway and wanted to capitalize on the opportunity...In any case, we know that it was Aragorn who called it off. Arwen still thinks they can work it out."

"So that's why he's being cold to her and she's trying to make him—well, warm up," mused Eowyn. They ate in silence for a minute, each of them contemplating the situation.

"Talk about a power couple, though," said Merry.

"Yeah." Eowyn whistled quietly. 

"It is sad, isn't it?" said Frodo. "They seemed so happy together all those years."

"Yes, it certainly makes the atmosphere a little more tense around here," said Sam. "When we arrived, it was so awkward. We had heard stuff before, or at least suspected, because he deleted an Instagram post of them together."

"That sounds pretty final," said Eowyn. "But how do you know for sure?"

"I heard Gimli and Legolas talking about it on the beach. They're his best friends. Legolas and Arwen also are like—cousins, I think? Distantly, but they're related somehow. Their dads know each other. It's very strange altogether."

"Do you talk to each other much the rest of the year?" Eowyn had known people at school who talked about their "camp friends" incessantly and posted sappy reunion pictures on social media. She wondered if this was that sort of camp. It wouldn't be horrible, she thought, to leave at the end of the summer with ten new ride-or-die friends. But she found it unlikely.

"Oh, we all follow each other and things," said Merry. "And if anyone happens to be traveling close by, we might get ice cream or something. It is a little different because they're going off to college now and we're just lowly sophomores."

"I write letters to them," said Frodo, and Eowyn thought that was exactly the sort of thing he would do.

"Can I have your numbers?" she asked them. The gossip had them feeling all friendly. She passed her phone to Pippin, who passed it on to the others after entering his number.

"The service is pretty iffy around here, though," said Pippin.

"You idiot," said Sam. "You won't need to text her here, you can just talk to her."

The others laughed, but Pippin defended himself. "What if I want to talk to her after curfew and it can't wait until morning?"

"Then you won't be able to, because the service sucks."

"Maybe if you think it really hard, I'll pick up telepathically," said Eowyn. She held two fingers to each temple and pulled a face of intense concentration for a few seconds. "Did you get that?" This made even Frodo laugh, and she felt pleased with herself. 

As the sun sank lower in the sky, staining it red and orange above the treetops, the campers slowly cleared their plates, until at last they were too full to eat anything more and too sedate to keep up the conversation.

Gandalf cleared his throat, and they looked to him expectantly. "Run along to the fire pit now. I'll clear up and bring out the things for s'mores. Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas, Gimli—you know what to do."

Eowyn sat on one of the logs in between Merry and Pippin. It was smooth-barked and not uncomfortable. "Arwen mentioned something about Gandalf putting on a show?"

"Oh, that's the best part, just wait and see," said Merry. He sounded so earnest. Eowyn wondered if Gandalf were actually a really good singer.

The counselors had gone off when Gandalf instructed them, so it was just the seven left over on the logs. Eowyn watched as Gimli emerged from behind the big house, carrying an armful of logs.

"Don't you think the counselor-to-camper ratio is a bit messed up?" Eowyn said, to no one in particular. It was just one of the many odd things about this camp.

"Well, it's not as official as it might be in other summer camps," said Merry.

"Legit summer camps," added Pippin.

"It's more of an honorary thing, I think," said Frodo. "Those four have been going to camp the longest, so they get the title of counselor, and they get to make a bit of money as a reward, I suppose, for being so loyal to the camp. Also, Arwen's dad is the owner."

"Really!" said Eowyn. She did not know whether this surprised her, or indeed changed anything in her estimation of Arwen and the camp. Other than that she must be quite rich, if her dad owned such an enormous piece of land.

"I wish more people came," continued Frodo. "There used to be lots of campers, but attendance has been dwindling."

"I don't know. I've liked the sort of intimacy so far. And I like the people who have stayed," said Eowyn, smiling at the boys.

"You say that now," said Sam, "but just wait until you've spent a few weeks with Pippin. You'll be wishing there were more people so you'd be able to avoid his pranks."

Gimli had stacked an impressive tower of logs in the fire pit, and he was fiddling now with some newspaper and matches. He placed the newspaper deliberately, although Eowyn couldn't understand the logic of it, and then struck several matches and touched them to different pieces of newspaper all around the tower. In a few moments, the entire thing went up in a blazing column of fire. The heat was so intense that Eowyn had to turn her face away.

"I've never seen a bonfire like that," she coughed. "I think I'd be able to roast marshmallows from here."

"Gimli's good with fire," said Merry.

"That is one of the least comforting things I've ever heard about a person. Especially seeing as all the buildings here are made of wood, and we're surrounded by trees."

"Oh, don't worry. He's careful."

After a few minutes, the fire settled down to a more tolerable level. The smell of woodsmoke was delicious, even as it made Eowyn cough. Across from them in the circle, she could see Eomer and Boromir chatting animatedly, their figures distorted and waved by the heat. 

It was then that Aragorn, Arwen, and Legolas returned to the circle of logs. Aragorn was carrying a guitar. They settled themselves on the logs—Gimli with Aragorn, Legolas steering Arwen away; clearly there was some sort of bro code at work here. Merry groaned, and Pippin reached over Eowyn to smack him.

"I hate campfire songs," grumbled Merry.

"It's tradition!" hissed Pippin.

Eowyn had not realized that people actually did that at camps. She was not sure if she was on Pippin's side or Merry's concerning the tradition.  
Aragorn strummed a few chords. He seemed like he knew what he was doing with that guitar, and it didn't altogether surprise Eowyn, although she heard a voice in her head whisper "Oh no." The sound was clear and warm.

"Alright, lads, it's time for campfire songs," boomed Gimli. HIs voice was surprisingly loud, seeing as it came from a rather small package.

"I'll sing a few verses, and the returning campers can join in if they want to," said Aragorn. "Eowyn and Eomer, feel free to join in whenever you think you've got the tune down. The verses repeat, you'll know the words soon." And he played a sequence of chords and began to sing.

The voice in Eowyn's head said "Oh no" again, louder this time. Aragorn's voice was not stunningly good, but it was striking. He had a bit of grit and heat to his singing voice, which blended well with the old acoustic guitar and the smoke and the fire. Eowyn watched his hands plucking at the strings. His fingers were lean and square, and they moved confidently, the thumb in opposition to the fingers, left hand moving with unconscious competence up and down the neck of the guitar. The song was not anything Eowyn had heard before. It was not what she had imagined when she hear the phrase "campfire song"—that would have to be "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall," or—she didn't know—"Oh Susanna"? This sounded like something a cowboy would sing, alone in the great stretches of wilderness in the Old West, with only his horse and his gun for company. It was a little sad, strangely poetic. The words stuck in her head without effort.

Pippin joined in on the second verse. His voice was surprising, too—clear and effortlessly in-tune. No wonder he was such a passionate defender of this tradition. After Pippin, the rest of the regular campers joined in one by one, although Eowyn suspected Merry was just mouthing the words, because she couldn't hear anything from that side of her. When that verse and the subsequent chorus ended, Aragorn went back to chords for a while, giving the singers a chance to rest. He played through the chords of one verse, and when he strummed the opening of the chorus, he nodded at Eowyn. She took this as her cue to join in.

Eowyn liked to sing, but it was not something she did in public. She had sung at the funeral for her parents, and then something had gone out of her, and she no longer could find her voice when there were people around. That changed in the moment Aragorn made eye contact with her. Her voice rose from her throat unbidden, the words supplying themselves easily for her tongue to form. Eowyn's voice was strong and correct—not very musical, she knew. She couldn't riff and there wasn't much vibrato to it. But it was a voice that made people listen. 

Aragorn smiled at her—that was all she saw before she looked away, heat that wasn't from the fire rising in her cheeks. She stared into the fire instead. It was good to sing again, she thought, good to hear her voice mixing with others. She could hear Eomer among the rest—he was practically tone-deaf, but he kept up a steady chant of the lyrics. When she glanced to her side, she found that Pippin was grinning broadly at her, and she returned the grin, even as it stretched the words in her mouth.

When the song ended, Merry elbowed her. "You didn't tell us you could sing!"

"I didn't know I could," said Eowyn, half-truthfully. "And besides, it's not something you tell people when you first meet them."

This went on for several songs: Aragorn opening with a verse and chorus, the regulars joining him, and then everyone singing together for the final half. Each song was new to Eowyn, but she learned them quickly. It wasn't even awkward, as she might have imagined it would be to sing while sitting in a circle with virtual strangers. Instead, there was a sense of camaraderie and familiarity, as though by learning the songs, she became one of them. 

The sun went down practically without them noticing. It was only when a new voice—a rough baritone—joined them that Eowyn looked up and noticed the sky had bruised deep blue, and the fire was now the only source of light.

Gandalf emerged from the darkness, his arms laden with bags of marshmallows, boxes of graham crackers, and Hershey chocolate bars: all the necessary ingredients for the perfect s'mores. Aragorn immediately set down his guitar and went off to the big house, returning a minute later with enough roasting forks for the whole group of them. Eowyn gave hers a few experimental wiggles. 

"Everyone in, in," Gandalf said, and the campers dismounted their logs and gathered in toward the fire, close enough to roast their marshmallows. Gandalf set a bag, a box, and a few bars next to each general group within the campers. Pippin immediately opened the one that he shared with Merry and Eowyn, stuffing a few marshmallows into his mouth.

"You can't eat them raw, idiot," said Merry crossly.

"They aren't raw! It's just like eating a plain piece of bread, not toasting it."

"Yes, but only a fool doesn't toast their bread," said Eowyn, grinning. "Give me some of those, will you?" She stuck one marshmallow onto each tine of her fork. Crouching close to the fire—a little too close to be entirely comfortable—she held her marshmallows over the flame. Eomer, to her surprise, came and sat next to her.

"It might not be so bad," was all he said.

Eowyn nodded, then elbowed him.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"I was just trying to get your marshmallows closer to the fire."

Eomer immediately pulled his fork back. One of the marshmallows had caught and was flaming contentedly. He hurriedly blew on it, but the damage was done. "You ruined it!"

"No, that's the best way," said Boromir, who had just appeared next to him. "You've got to get that charred shell and the melted insides."

"See, here's a man who knows how to roast a marshmallow," said Eowyn.

"You don't want to roast, you want to toast," grumbled Eomer. "Golden brown. You want it golden brown."

Eowyn stuck her fork into the fire and watched as the marshmallows blackened. She blew out the fire once she had removed them and studied her work. "What do you say, Boromir?"

"Looks perfect to me."

"Merry, hand me some crackers and chocolate," Eowyn said over her shoulder. Merry obliged, and she squished together her s'more. It tasted like smoke and sweetness and summer. Eomer ate his toasted-golden s'more with a look of superiority on his face. 

"You've got chocolate on your chin," Eowyn told him. He scowled at her and wiped it off.

Pippin was a s'more machine; he made it through about five in the space it took Eowyn to eat her two. "Slow down, buddy," Boromir said, "you're going to make yourself sick." He snatched Pippin's fork and held it out of reach. Merry and Pippin together started trying to tackle him.

"Not near the fire, please," Gandalf admonished, and Boromir returned the fork to its rightful owner.

"Only one more for you, though, or I'm taking it back," he said.

"What are you, my mom?"

When the last streaks of chocolate were wiped from cheeks and the sticky trails of marshmallows licked from fingertips, Gandalf announced that it was time for the show. The regular campers cheered. Then Gandalf promptly turned around and left the fire pit.

"Where's he going?" asked Eowyn.

"To put on the show," answered Merry, as though this were obvious.

"Yes, but—" Eowyn was going to ask how he was going to put on a show for them from—somewhere else, but she decided against it, as all her previous questions about the show had been answered unsatisfactorily, and she doubted this would be any different.

She noticed that Aragorn and the other counselors had gotten up and were walking out of the fire pit circle as well. Sam and Frodo followed them. 

"Come on," said Pippin. "The best way to see it is lying on the grass." He led their group out to where the others had already stretched out on the ground. Eowyn lay down a little self-consciously. The stars, she noticed, were intensely visible out here, in the middle of nowhere. There were more than she had ever seen before.

And then a BOOM rattled the night, and Eowyn started confusedly, feeling a momentary panic until she saw a moment later the burst and flare of a firework. She felt profoundly stupid—of course this was the show everyone was talking about, and of course Gandalf had to go far away to set off the fireworks, and of course they were best seen while lying down. But when the second firework went off, Eowyn forgot all of this and simply let herself enjoy the show.

Fireworks in Eowyn's experience were restricted to the Fourth of July. Only the town was allowed to set them off, and only once a year for about an hour's window of time. Often she would hear illegal ones go off at dusk during the summer, but she never saw them. They were just annoying pops that interrupted her reading or TV shows. These fireworks were like none she had seen before, even during her city's official fireworks show. The colors were brighter, the radius larger, the fizz and crackle of the sparks more audible. She could have sworn some of the fireworks were actually blue, even though she'd read that that was impossible. The first round of fireworks ended with an enormous pure gold one. In the silence that followed, Eowyn felt her ears ringing. Then the second round started up, and it was even more incredible than the first. These fireworks were shaped—she had no idea how it was possible—into dragons and bears and horses. One looked like a flying saucer; the next, a rocket ship. Merry and Pippin cheered when each one went off. Boromir, who was lying in between them, called out ratings out of ten. The explosions were so loud that Eowyn could barely hear them, though.

She lay as though dazed, the bangs and booms rattling her body, the world flashing red and green and gold. She turned her head a moment to look at where the counselors lay. Arwen was a little apart from the trio of boys. Aragorn had placed himself farthest away from her. The strange inconstant light of the fireworks brought his features into momentary relief, then plunged them into darkness once more. Eowyn rolled her head back and sighed, the sound lost to the night.

How long it went on, she couldn't have said. The moon was high in the sky when the fireworks ended, and the bonfire had sizzled low, now barely more than a pile of embers. When Gandalf appeared from the night, a blacker silhouette in the dark, the campers gave him a round of applause.

"You were right about the show," said Eowyn to Merry.

"What?" he said.

She laughed. She could barely hear herself think, the ringing in her ears was so loud.

One by one, the campers stood, pulled up their neighbors, dusted themselves off. Eowyn caught her brother's hand and stood, her back cracking as she stretched. She itched all over from the grass, but she didn't mind. A wave of tiredness crashed over her and she stumbled, but Eomer was there to prop her up.

"What a night, huh," he said, and she nodded, although she wasn't sure if he could see.

She followed the slender silhouette that was Arwen to the girls' cabin. Neither of them bothered to turn the light on. Eowyn remembered that she had not finished unpacking her clothes. Unwilling to go searching for pajamas, she simply stripped off her t-shirt and shorts and climbed into bed in her underwear. 

The bed smelled sort of damp and musty, and it was not particularly comfortable, and the sheets were stiff and scratchy. Eowyn felt a long way from home and happier than she had felt in recent memory. She closed her eyes.


	3. The Ring

Eowyn woke early to the sound of a chipmunk screeching outside of her cabin. It took her a moment to place the noise, and to remember where she was. How strange that twenty-four hours ago she had been in her bed back in Rohan, resigned to a day’s drive with Grima to an unknown camp that seemed to her like a prison. It felt deep in the past. Now, gazing at the underside of the top bunk above her, illuminated by insistent morning sunlight from the tiny window, Eowyn thought nothing in the world seemed as real as Camp Rivendell. 

Arwen, it seemed, was still asleep. Eowyn studied the duffel bag which she had unceremoniously dumped on the floor before crashing in bed last night. She would put her things in the wardrobe later; first, she wanted to take a shower. After dressing in her dirty clothes from last night, selecting a new outfit—“selecting” by simply grabbing the first items of clothing she touched—and gathering her toiletries, she unlocked the door of the cabin and went out into the summer morning.

The grass was heavy with dew, which soaked her feet even though she was wearing slides. Eowyn saw the charred remnants of last night’s bonfire in the fire pit. She pushed open the door of the second-largest cabin, the one next to the big house. It was essentially two locker rooms stuck together and housed in the same building. They were about as nice as one would expect for bathrooms in the middle of the woods. On the plus side, however, they didn’t smell. 

Eowyn turned on the shower and waited for the water to get warm. It did not. Sighing, she resigned herself to a very invigorating shower. At least, she thought, it would banish the sleepiness from her late night.

She washed very quickly and, upon stepping out of the shower, realized that she had forgotten to bring a towel. She swore under her breath. With no other options, Eowyn dried herself as best she could with her dirty shirt from last night and hoped the sun would do the rest as the day progressed. 

She took a moment to stare at herself in the mirror. Nothing special, as always, she thought. She felt plainer than usual, having seen Arwen and knowing that someone who looked like that existed next to her. But it didn't matter, she told herself. She was making friends anyway, and she imagined she was going to have a good time at this camp.

Eowyn braided her wet hair and let it hang over her shoulder, knowing that it would leave a giant wet stain and not finding it within herself to care. She checked her phone. Still no service, but the clock worked, of course, and it told her that it was barely seven in the morning. She had gotten about five hours of sleep. But the freezing water had done its job, and she felt fully awake at the moment. That might change later in the day, of course, but she would have coffee at breakfast and hope for the best.

Come to think of it, she couldn't remember Arwen telling her anything about how breakfast worked. Would they eat at the picnic table again? Was every meal outside? Except for when it rained, of course... but it seemed like that sort of place. Eowyn brushed her teeth just in case and, feeling very minty, left the locker room.

She opened the door almost into another body, and she jumped. "Oh!" she exclaimed, having nothing better to say.

The body, as it turned out, was Aragorn. He didn't look at all perturbed.

"Good morning, Eowyn," he said pleasantly, and hearing her name in his voice made something flutter inside her, which she scolded silently. "I think we're the only ones up at the moment."

"Is that so," said Eowyn. She noticed his hair was damp, too.

"People always make fun of me for getting up so early. It's good to see there's another early riser around."

"Yes, well, it wasn't my choice. The sun came in and I just—" Eowyn snapped her fingers. "Boom. Awake. Nothing I can do about it. Do you—do you know when breakfast is?"

"Oh, it can be any time, really. Gandalf usually makes us a nice spread a little later, when the others get up," Aragorn explained. "I can take you to the big house and show you the pantry, though. If you're hungry now, you can get some cereal or something."

"He lets us just do that? Isn't that where Gandalf lives, though?"

"The big house is always open to campers. Just try to be a little quiet. He's grumpy—well, grumpier than usual—if you wake him up."

"Ah, I think I can wait," said Eowyn.

Aragorn smiled at her. "No, I can tell you want something. Come with me."

And so Eowyn found herself following Aragorn through the quiet, dewy morning. He smelled like men's shower gel. His hair, when damp, curled around his shoulders. Eowyn squeezed out some of the water that had collected at the end of her braid and bit the inside of her cheek.

The door to the big house was unlocked. Aragorn went up the porch silently, but Eowyn stepped on a part of one of the stairs that creaked horrifically. She cringed at the sound. 

The inside of the big house was as eccentric as she might have expected, given that it was inhabited by a man like Gandalf. The walls were covered with maps, not all of places she recognized, and there were bookshelves everywhere filled with all sorts of books—old and new, fiction, classics, encyclopedias, car repair manuals, and even what looked like a few LEGO instruction packets. It smelled like paper and coffee. In short, it was very nice.

The kitchen, which was just to the left of the entrance, was astonishingly small. It looked as though you couldn't open the oven door without it running into the refrigerator, and certainly both of them couldn't be open at the same time. It was a marvel that Gandalf was able to get anything done in there. The refrigerator was one of those old-style ones, white and magnetic. Gandalf had magnets from several tourist attractions all over the country. With those chunky letter magnets, he had stuck up some photos. Eowyn peered closer—they weren't the best quality. It became clear, as she squinted at them, that these were old camp photos. The attendance had indeed been much higher back whenever these were taken. There were at least twice as many kids, maybe even three times, in some. It looked like there had been more cabins back then, judging by the backgrounds of the photos, to accommodate for the larger attendance. 

Aragorn drew up beside Eowyn. "That's me," he said after a moment, pointing to a boy in the second row of one of the slightly better-quality photos. Yes, now that she was looking, Eowyn recognized him. He had that same outdoorsy brownness to him, the same upright bearing. 

"Oh, and there's Legolas—and Gimli!" she said, their telltale hair colors catching her eye.

"You'll like to see this—here's Sam and Frodo and the rest," said Aragorn. He pointed to a quartet of extremely short boys in a different photo.

"My god, they're tiny!"

"And they were no less mischievous back then." Aragorn adjusted the photo under its magnet with a slight smile on his face.

"Do you miss having so many people here?"

"Not too much. Everything changes, you know. And besides," he said, "it's all my favorite people who stayed." He straightened. "Come on, the pantry's this way."

There was a tiny hallway beyond the kitchen which had inset shelving on one wall and a closet at the end. The shelves were filled with dry goods, paper plates, and plastic utensils.

"Pick your poison," Aragorn said, gesturing to the array of cereal boxes. "Sorry if you don't like cereal, but it's really all we've got. Unless you want toast."

"Cereal is fine," said Eowyn. She took a box of Cheerios off the shelf. Aragorn selected Grape Nuts for himself. "God, really?" Eowyn couldn't help herself saying.

"What?"

"I've never seen a person voluntarily choose to eat Grape Nuts before."

"They're crunchy."

"Like break your teeth crunchy. And they're flavorless."

"They aren't flavorless, they taste wholesome."

"Wholesome isn't a flavor."

"Hey, you don't see me critiquing your cereal preference," said Aragorn as he squeezed past her back into the kitchen. "Regular milk or soy milk?"

"That's because my cereal preference is valid and above all criticism. Soy, please," said Eowyn.

They ate standing at the kitchen counter. 

"Your crunching is painfully audible," said Eowyn.

"I can't hear you, I'm crunching too loudly."

Eowyn snorted and chased a stubborn Cheerio around her bowl. "Where's the dish soap?"

"Oh, you don't have to wash it."

"I'd like to, if you don't mind."

Aragorn pointed at the cabinet under the sink. "There's a sponge there, too. Although I can't vouch for how clean it is."

Eowyn washed her bowl and spoon and set them in the drying rack. She reached out toward Aragorn. "You're done, right?"

"You don't have to do that for me. I'd feel like I was hazing you. Making the new camper clean my dishes."

"Well, dry them, then. My hands are already soapy."

It was done very quickly, of course, and in no time at all the dishes were back in their cupboards and the cereal boxes back on the shelf, leaving no trace of their early breakfast.

"It's a nice morning," said Aragorn, "and I was thinking of going on a hike. The sun hasn't had time to heat things up quite yet."

"Tempting," said Eowyn, "but I still need to unpack. I didn't do anything last night because of the lake and the bonfire."

"All right then."

"How do we know when it's time for real breakfast?"

"Oh, Gandalf will ring a cowbell."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Completely serious." Aragorn led Eowyn out of the kitchen and pointed to a peg on a wall in the living room, from which an ancient-looking cowbell was hanging. "It is astonishingly loud. You'll know it when you hear it."

"Well, then," said Eowyn, slapping her hands against her thighs.

"Yes, we'd best be off."

"Thanks for showing me around."

"Any time, Eowyn," said Aragorn, and he held the door for her as they left the big house.

Eowyn turned to the girls' cabin and Aragorn to the same path that had taken them to the lake before. Once she was at the porch, Eowyn paused and looked after him, just for a moment. Then she let herself back into the cabin.

Arwen was still asleep, it seemed, for there was an immobile lump under her blanket. Eowyn retrieved her duffel bag from the floor and dumped it unceremoniously on the bed. She regretted this instantly, because upon doing so, she remembered that she had folded and rolled all her clothes. Now she had just undone all that work.

Eowyn dug through the pile of her belongings until she found her headphones. She would only face the task of re-folding all her clothes if she could listen to music. Belatedly, she realized that without strong wifi, she wouldn't be able to use her Spotify, so she was stuck listening to whatever music she had on her iTunes. It was very aggressively middle-school music.

She worked as quietly as she could, lifting and sliding the drawers out slowly so they wouldn't make that wood-on-wood screech that old wardrobes tended to make. She hadn't brought that many clothes—really just a week's worth of each type of clothing, with a few extras just in case—so it didn't take her too long. She recalled that there was a washing machine in the locker room, but there hadn't seemed to be a dryer. Most likely, she supposed, she would have to dry her things on the line, just as she had with her swimsuit. That was sort of quaint, she thought, and also impractical. She went outside to check her swimsuit, but it was still damp, likely because it had been hanging throughout the cool, damp night.

Once her laundry was folded and put away, there was not that much else to do. Eowyn didn't want to knock around the cabin lest she wake Arwen. So she took her angsty middle school music outside and sat on the steps of the cabin, listening and soaking in the summer sun, which was, as Aragorn had pointed out, not too strong yet. The views were quite pleasing, actually. The sky was the sort of blue you normally only found in crayon boxes, and it was dotted with puffy, clean-linen clouds. The leaves of the trees shimmered and waved in the breeze, and though she couldn't hear through her noise-canceling headphones, Eowyn imagined that there was birdsong, perhaps undercut by the buzz of cicadas. It was a funny contrast—the idyllic forest scenery and the emo punk music blasting in her ears. Once again, Eowyn found herself immensely glad that she was here at Camp Rivendell, and Grima was far away, making trouble, surely, but not bothering her for once.

When Eowyn had finished one album and gotten a good start on the next one, she saw the door of the big house open from across the campsite. Out stepped Gandalf, dressed in khaki old-man shorts and a plaid button-down. He held in one hand the cowbell, and in the other, a spatula. Then Gandalf rang the cowbell.

Eowyn had not taken off her headphones before he rang it, and she was very glad she hadn't. For she could hear it even with the noise cancelling, and given that, it must have been painfully loud. Gandalf clanged it in a short, militaristic pattern, finishing by giving the cowbell a good smack with the spatula. If that doesn't wake everyone up, Eowyn thought, I'm not sure what will. She took off her headphones trepidatiously, hoping that Gandalf would not deem a second round of cowbell-ringing necessary.

"Breakfast is ready!" he bellowed.

Eowyn smiled awkwardly—she wasn't sure he could even see her in that much detail—old people have bad eyesight, right?—but she was the only person visible in the courtyard, so it felt like he was speaking directly to her.

When she went back into her cabin to put away her headphones, she found Arwen awake, rummaging through her wardrobe. 

"Good morning," Eowyn said politely.

"Wow, you look really awake. When did you get up?"

"Um, around seven. The sunlight had its way with me."

"So you've experienced the cowbell for the first time," said Arwen, choosing a shirt and a pair of shorts. "Sorry I didn't warn you beforehand. Shocking, isn't it?"

"Well—" Eowyn stopped herself. She was about to say that Aragorn had told her about it, but then she decided that she didn't want to say that. "I had my headphones on. It blocked out most of the noise."

Arwen started making her bed. Eowyn had not done this, which made her feel slobbish, but she thought it would be weird to immediately copy Arwen.

"You can go on ahead of me," said Arwen, apparently thinking that Eowyn had been waiting for her to finish so they could go to breakfast together. Which she hadn't.

"Oh, ah, are you sure?"

"No problem. You're probably hungry since you got up so early. And trust me," Arwen laughed, "you want to get there before the boys do. The amount they eat is staggering."

"See you there, I guess," said Eowyn, and she left Arwen to her morning routine. It had been long enough since her pre-breakfast that Eowyn was indeed getting hungry again. She walked by herself to the big house, realizing as she went that Aragorn hadn't shown her any sort of dining room there, nor had she seen one. The door was wide open when she arrived, and she could hear Gandalf banging pots and pans in the kitchen. Eowyn decided that the logical thing to do would be to go through the living room, since she had already been through the whole kitchen side. The far right wall of the living room opened up to a screened-in porch-type thing with a long table. The table was set with plates and napkins, so Eowyn figured she had found the right place. No one else had arrived yet, nor was there food on the table.

Eowyn went back to the kitchen, where Gandalf was humming a tuneless song and snatching his hand back from the stove periodically, dodging the sizzling bacon grease that jumped from the pan. 

"This smells amazing," said Eowyn.

Gandalf started and swore. "You need to make more noise, girl. What's your name again?"

"Eowyn," said Eowyn.

"I like to know when people are in my house. And of course it smells amazing, I made it." Gandalf used some tongs to remove a few pieces of bacon from the pan. "Now shoo, run along, go sit. I'll be out with the food in a minute."

"I just wondered if I could help in any way. No one else is here yet."

"Oh, Samwise has infected you with servility, hmm?" Gandalf snorted. Eowyn thought this was a very odd way to react to someone offering to help you.

"Well, can I at least take out water or juice or something? I am thirsty," Eowyn said, a bit testily.

"Fine, if you're so determined. Take these and stay out of my kitchen." Eowyn grabbed the two pitchers Gandalf thrust at her and went back to the dining porch, thoroughly confused by the encounter. She was just trying to help. Then again, Gandalf was an old man, and sometimes old men were just like that. Eowyn knew enough of them to say that with certainty.

One pitcher was filled with water and the other with orange juice. Eowyn placed them in the center of the table and studied the array of seats. It was odd to choose a place to sit when there was no one else off whom she could base her judgement. In the end, she decided to sit in a place that was roughly equivalent to where she had sat at the picnic table for dinner last night. She hoped that the boys would fill in around her in the same way. She also hoped that she would not be seated next to Gandalf.

Eowyn poured herself some orange juice and sipped at it while she waited for everyone to arrive. Legolas and Gimli were the first. This was rather unfortunate because Eowyn had not been formally introduced to either of them yet.

"Hi," she said hesitantly as they sat at the far end of the table—indeed in the same places that they had last night.

"Morning," said Gimli. He had a funny gruff voice for such a small person. Legolas just nodded at her. Then they launched into a conversation just between the two of them.

Eowyn raised her eyebrows down toward her plate so they wouldn't see and went back to sipping her orange juice. Apparently those two were not the most social of the bunch. Eowyn listened to their conversation as she fiddled with her napkin—they were discussing some competition of sorts, and Legolas was clearly winning. Luckily, before long, Eowyn heard footsteps in the hall, accompanied by Pippin's voice.

The four boys burst in. Or rather, Merry and Pippin burst in, followed by a more sedate Sam and a sleepy-looking Frodo. None of them seemed to have brushed his hair yet, and the four heads boasted absolute riots of curls. They obligingly filed into place around Eowyn.

"Every year—every year, I swear, I forget how loud that cowbell is," groaned Sam. "My ears are still ringing."

"That's because they're so large, they keep more sound inside them," said Pippin. Sam scowled at him. "How'd you like the cowbell, Eowyn?"

"It was a lot," said Eowyn. The boys nodded in agreement.

"Would you pass me the orange juice, please?" asked Frodo. Eowyn stood to retrieve the pitcher.

As she poured Frodo a glass, Eomer, Boromir, and Arwen arrived. Arwen looked out of place among the rest of the campers—far more put-together compared to the heads of unbrushed hair and the loose t-shirts. Eomer ruffled Eowyn's hair as he passed, so she poked his side. Soon after, Gandalf arrived with trays of bacon and scrambled eggs. Next came triangles of toast, cut-up strawberries, pots of jam and butter and honey, and several bananas.

Eowyn served herself a modest portion of everything. Eomer, sitting next to her, filled half of his plate with scrambled eggs and the other half with bacon. He began to use a piece of toast as a utensil.

"Good God," said Eowyn. "Eat like a person, please." Eomer chewed pointedly at her in response.

In a few minutes, Aragorn arrived. "Sorry I'm late," he said. With his presence, the room seemed to brighten. He didn't sound out-of-breath at all, nor did he appear particularly sweaty. All in all, there was no hint that he had just been hiking through the woods for an hour, as Eowyn knew he had been.

Gandalf said, "No trouble, no trouble at all," gesturing to the last empty seat at the table. As Aragorn slid into it, Arwen began reaching for the trays of eggs and bacon, handing them toward him. Aragorn nodded his thanks but did not say anything. It looked to Eowyn like he was carefully avoiding touching Arwen's hands as he received the trays.

They all fell to eating and talking for a while. Eowyn got into an intense discussion with Boromir, Eomer, and Merry about the best characters in League of Legends. Pippin was telling Sam and Frodo some funny and possibly inappropriate story, which made Frodo laugh and Sam frown. The food was very good, and once again Eowyn was impressed that Gandalf could do everything by himself. She was not usually one for hot breakfasts, except the few times she and Eomer had gotten to stay in hotels. Most of the time, she simply scarfed down a bowl of cereal and a piece of fruit before running to get to school in time for her early bird classes. 

Eventually Gandalf banged his fork against the table, and the talking died away. "So, counselors," he said, "what have we got planned for today?"

"Well, normally the first full day is reserved for tours," said Arwen. "But there are only two newbies here. The rest of you might get bored."

"We can show them around," offered Sam. Eowyn smiled at him.

"No need," butted in Gimli. "They'll learn their way around as they go. We ought to do something more interesting for everyone."

"I was thinking it would be a good day for fishing," said Aragorn. "I had a look at the river this morning. It felt right."

Legolas nodded like this was a perfectly reasonable thing to say. Well, maybe it was. Eowyn knew nothing about fishing.

"Is everyone alright with that?" Aragorn asked. There were general murmurs of assent from around the table. Eowyn only shrugged.

"Then to the boats with all of you!" cried Gimli.

"I still need to brush my teeth," said Frodo seriously.

Gimli grumbled a bit. "Fine, everyone finish getting ready and then we'll go to the boats."

It was quite a hike to where the boats were kept. They took the same path they had taken yesterday—to the lake, that is—but continued far around it, not stopping at the beach. The boat shed was on the other side of the lake, for reasons Eowyn couldn't fathom. Then again, reason didn't seem to hold quite the same sway here that it did everywhere else, taking into account the cowbell and the fireworks and things. She began to wish that she had saved showering for the nighttime, because the sun was climbing aggressively and the day was heating quickly. Eowyn had only brought so much shampoo. 

The boats were nothing fancy, just little rowboats with enough room for two, maybe three people each, given the size of some of the campers. Aragorn and Legolas directed people into boats and handed them fishing poles and buckets of bait. Eowyn looked with interest at the shining, writhing mass of worms in the bucket she was given. She had been sort of a worm girl as a child—very concerned with putting worms who had crawled onto the pavement during rainstorms back into the dirt. Once, she had tackled a boy who was purposely stomping on worms. She was sent to the principal's office, but couldn't understand why at the time—she was preventing animal cruelty! 

Eowyn was assigned to a boat with Merry and Boromir. She was glad to have Boromir there, and to have Merry and Pippin in separate boats, because it seemed a terrible idea to put them in charge of a floating vessel that could be easily overturned. Boromir and Merry each took fishing rods, but Eowyn declined.

"Don't you want to learn?" asked Boromir.

"There's plenty of time to learn over the course of the summer," said Eowyn. "Besides, I'm learning by observation at the moment. I'll be your bait girl for the time being." 

Merry was flicking his rod experimentally over the side of the boat, mimicking struggling to pull up a fish.

Boromir dodged as the hook swung dangerously close to his face. "Watch what you're doing with that, Merry," he scolded. Merry stuck out his tongue at him but complied. 

When Aragorn called it, the little fleet of boats set off rowing. Boromir took the oars without asking if any of the others wanted to row. Eowyn thought Merry was probably too small to handle their combined weight, but she was curious to try. Maybe while they were fishing, she would get to man the oars.

Eomer had been placed in a boat with Sam and Frodo. Eowyn watched him row with intense concentration. He would like fishing, she thought. It was the sort of manly, outdoorsy thing that appealed to him, and that Grima never let them do.

After a few minutes, it occurred to Eowyn to ask where they were going.

"I thought Aragorn said the river looked good," she said. They were heading toward the center of the lake.

"Yes, and that means something to him, but we don't fish in the river," explained Boromir. "Too shallow for the boats. I think it's connected or something. If Aragorn says the river looks good, then we find a lot of fish in the lake."

"Hm." Eowyn nodded, and Boromir nodded, and then she laughed and shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense to me."

"Me neither, to be honest." Boromir grinned. "It's best just to listen to Aragorn when he says something. He tends to be right—you'll learn this as you go along."

"Yeah, he gives off that vibe." Eowyn reached over the side of the boat to dip her fingers in the water. It was freezing again. "What do you do with the fish once you've caught them?"

"Why, we give them to Gandalf, of course," said Merry. "Then we have a fish fry for dinner."

"Are you kidding?"

"Not at all. We have one about once a week, or whenever Aragorn says the river looks good."

"Incredible," said Eowyn.

"It is. Haven't you ever had fresh-caught fish before?"

"Can't say that I have. I come from a pretty land-locked place."

"Oh, you're missing out, you are," said Merry. "Fresh, flaky fish, grilled, maybe put into fish tacos..." And he continued to wax poetic about the virtues of freshly caught fish.

"It is pretty good," said Boromir, winking at Eowyn.

Aragorn called out from his boat, directing the fleet to spread out around the center of the lake. From out here, Eowyn could tell that the lake was larger and deeper than she had suspected yesterday, staying so close to the shoreline. The water faded to fathomless black underneath their rowboat.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

"Now we need to do some shuffling around," said Boromir. Under his direction, the three of them shifted positions. Eowyn moved to the center, taking up the oars and holding the bucket of worms between her knees. Boromir and Merry each went to one end of the boat— _fore and aft, is that what it's called?_ thought Eowyn. She stuck the oars into their holders on the side of the boat and distributed some bait to each of her companions. They expertly hooked the worms and cast off into the water. 

"So you just wait, then, huh?" said Eowyn.

"Shhh," said Merry.

"Can the fish hear me? Am I scaring them off?"

"No, they can't hear you. But I can, and you're breaking my concentration." Boromir purposely wobbled the boat, and Merry swore, catching himself on the side. "What was that for? Now I'm all distracted. I was feeling so ready," he said, and continued muttering under his breath something about meditation and sensing the fish.

Eowyn waited on the bench, unconcerned. She reached up to undo her braid—only after rinsing her wormy fingers off in the water—and let her hair fall loose, to better dry in the sun. During the summer, her normally golden hair bleached to a flaxen color. Eowyn was also prone to freckles, which she liked. She let the warmth of the sun and the gentle rocking of the boat relax her.

Then Merry yelped, and the boat rocked as he started yanking on his fishing rod, scrambling to reel in his catch. After a slightly nauseating thirty seconds of turbulence, accompanied by Merry's yells, a modestly sized silver fish plopped onto the floor of their boat. 

"Nicely done, Merry," said Boromir.

Eowyn watched it flopping around. She admired the way its scales glittered in the sunlight, but there was something off-putting about the whole ritual. "What kind of fish is it?" she asked.

"No idea," said Merry. "The edible kind."

After that, it seemed the fish had become lemmings, all following one another off their cliff. For the fish came regularly after that. There were lots of shouts from both their boat and their neighbors, and more waves slapped against the wood, and the percussive slapping of fish onto floor became a steady beat around them. Eowyn wondered if they should have brought coolers, but no one else seemed concerned about it. 

Merry kept looking at Boromir's pile with anxiety and determination. Clearly the younger boy wanted to beat him in some unofficial competition. Eowyn thought both of their catches were respectably sized, and she could not imagine how they were going to eat all this fish. She said as much to her crew-mates.

"Oh, Gandalf does something to the extras. Preserves them, smokes them, cans them—like sardines. It's good. He lets us take some home at the end of the summer."

"Every new thing I learn about this place is astonishing."

"He does jams and jellies too," added Boromir.

"I'm just going to have to believe that, aren't I?"

Eventually Aragorn stood up in the boat he shared with Legolas and called out that it was time for them to return to shore. Eowyn, already seated at the oars, decided this was her chance to really try rowing. Boromir didn't try to stop her, which she appreciated; he only looked at her appraisingly. Merry was poking at the various fish he had caught and speculating about the ways in which Gandalf would prepare them for dinner. 

Eowyn quickly found that rowing was hard work—she hadn't expected it to be easy, but she was surprised at how soon her arms grew tired. Nevertheless, she pushed on, enjoying the strain of the water against the oars, admiring the smooth ripples she created as she dragged them back and forth. She worked up quite a sweat, and resigned herself to another shower at the end of the day. In fact, she thought that jumping in the water right now would be more refreshing than anything, but she resisted the temptation because she would be stuck in cold, damp clothes for the rest of the day.

When the bottoms of the boats started to scrape against the rocky lakebed, they stopped and began to disembark. Boromir went first, helping Merry out after him. He grabbed the side of the boat and held out a hand for Eowyn.

"I've got to return it to the shed," she said, adjusting her grip on the oars.

"But that's my favorite part," said Boromir with a grin. "You wouldn't deprive me of my favorite part of going fishing, would you? I simply love to row the boat back into its little shed." Eowyn correctly interpreted this as him being at once gentlemanly and teasing. She decided that she would let him relieve her.

"No, that would be cruel of me, wouldn't it," she said, and hopped out, without taking his hand, however.

The cool water felt excellent on her legs. It was clearer than yesterday—there had seemed to be more algae and detritus floating around. Perhaps that had something to do with why it was a good day for fishing. Eowyn waded towards the shore, and as she did, a glimmer under the water caught her eye.

She paused and looked more intently in that direction. Had it been a nice rock? Eowyn did like to collect rocks. She took a few steps toward where she thought she had seen the glint. There—it wasn't a rock.

Nestled halfway into the lake-mud was a golden ring. She reached in to retrieve it, scrubbing at it a bit underwater to remove the grime. Once out of the water, it shone more intensely. It was quite plain—just a band, no stone or anything. _How odd,_ thought Eowyn. She pocketed the ring and waded to shore.

They made a funny parade on the way back to the cabins. Aragorn had emerged from the boat shed wheeling a large cooler, which evidently was kept there expressly for the purpose of transporting the fish they caught. All of them were somewhat wet; either they had wet feet and legs from getting in and out of the boats, or, like Sam, they were soaked all over from a particularly intense battle with a fish. Their chatter as they walked was accompanied by the regular symphony of the forest and the thump-thumping of the cooler over roots and stones.

Gandalf greeted them back at camp with a bevy of sandwiches, laid out on the picnic table with chips and drinks. He took the cooler from Aragorn and checked inside, making pleased-sounding huffs and puffs as he saw their catch.

"There'll be a feast tonight, there will," said Sam, sounding satisfied. "Nothing better than fresh fish."

"So people keep telling me," Eowyn said.

They all were hungry after the heat and exertion of rowing and fishing, and the campers fell upon the sandwiches eagerly. Eowyn chose one at random and found that it was ham and cheese, with a very strong mustard. It was good. She downed the sandwich, an apple, and a bag of chips in rapid succession. Everyone was too busy eating to do much talking. Once they were finished, they looked to the counselors for an idea of what was going to happen next.

"Legolas was thinking it would be a good time for archery lessons," said Aragorn.

"Oh, come on," said Boromir. "Our arms are all tired from rowing and fishing. Can't you give us a break?"

"True archers have to learn how to shoot when their arms are tired," said Legolas intensely. "You think you get to take a break after two arrows? No, when people are coming toward you, there's no time to rest. You have to build the muscles to endure it. You have to keep working when you're tired."

Through a mouthful of chips, Pippin said, "What are you talking about? We're not some medieval soldiers. We've got no battles to fight."

Legolas did not reply, except by looking superior and uninterested. 

"He's a right bundle of laughs, that one," muttered Eowyn to Boromir, who was sitting next to her. "That was weird."

"He's been through some things, I think," said Boromir. "His dad isn't the best, as far as I can tell. Not that that's unique." Here he scowled a bit. "But he is a good guy, when you get to know him better. Very loyal to Aragorn."

Eowyn was surprised at this side of Boromir—that he would be so fair, that is. When she had first met him, he seemed a bit shallow, but still nice enough. Now she could see more depth to him.

"Is it a requisite to have trouble with your parents to come to this camp, then," she said with forced lightness. Boromir looked at her askance and twisted his mouth to the side. By mutual understanding, they pursued the topic no further.

"I think Legolas is right," said Aragorn.

"You would," muttered Sam.

"If everyone's sore already, we can't make it that much worse by shooting."

"You would be surprised," said Boromir, but he sighed and began to gather up his trash.

The archery range was in a different clearing, the path to which was also helpfully marked by a wooden sign. Eowyn tried to stretch her arms as they walked, crossing one over her chest or shrugging her shoulders in circles. She had never shot a bow and arrow before, and despite the grumblings of her friends, she couldn't help but be excited. Archers were badass. Eowyn wanted to be badass.

It was no Olympic archery range—it was simply a large clearing with targets nailed onto trees. The targets, Eowyn noted with bemusement, were shaped like people—just the torso and head, like you see in movies about assassins or cops. She wondered why on earth this summer camp would have combat-training targets for their archery practice. Even from far away, Eowyn could tell that the wooden targets were quite beaten up, scarred from years of being fired at by willful teenagers with sharp flying sticks. One of them had a very deep hole right in the center of its forehead, as though someone had made that shot again and again with considerable accuracy and strength. 

There were only two bows in the camp's stock and about ten arrows per bow, so they had to split into two groups and share. The first person would fire five arrows, the second would fire another five, and then one of the counselors would yell "Cease fire!" so that they could walk over to the target (or into the woods) and retrieve their arrows for the next two people. Eowyn found herself shuffled randomly into the group led by Aragorn. She hoped fervently that she would not make a fool of herself. 

Aragorn and Legolas were first in line, serving as examples for all who followed. Eowyn was shocked. Each of them was incredibly talented, and must have been very strong, too, for they pulled the string back seemingly effortlessly. Their motions were as smooth and well-worn as river rocks. Legolas was better—Eowyn could see that right away, even though she didn't know enough to say why, exactly. He moved a hair more quickly, with less thought, more instinct, and his arrows went thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk in a straight line down the middle of the target. But Aragorn was also a sight to behold. When they finished, Eowyn had to shake herself a little to bring her mind back to the task at hand. She thought she caught Frodo turning away from her with a slight smile, and she blushed but stood tall.

Clearly this was a camp staple, for everyone else had some idea of what they were doing. Their skill levels varied wildly: Arwen and Boromir were the best after Legolas and Aragorn, followed closely by Gimli and—surprisingly—Sam. Frodo, Merry, and Pippin were quite hopeless, but enthusiastic all the same. Eowyn was last in her line, and Eomer was last in the other. She took the bow and some arrows from Frodo, who went before her. It felt smooth and lithe in her hand, and she realized quite suddenly that it was a weapon she was holding, although they didn't use it that way. Aragorn came up next to her and reached for her wrist.

Eowyn snatched it back, surprised. He opened his hand as if to placate a scared animal. "I was just going to help you figure out how to hold it, if that's alright," he said gently.

"Oh, yes, of course," said Eowyn, feeling flustered and stupid. She let him adjust her grip and lift her arms into the correct position, barely breathing and trying very hard not to think about anything at all, anything except for the target in front of her. He smelled like the forest and a little bit of the shower gel from that morning. It was entirely maddening. _Don't think about it!_ Eowyn thought.

The string was even harder to pull back than she had anticipated, and her arms, already sore from rowing, groaned in protest. She gritted her teeth against the pain and stood firm. Her first arrow arced high and wide, nosediving into the grass at the foot of the other line's tree.

"Not bad for a first shot," said Aragorn. "You got good power on it. Now we just need to work on your aim."

Eowyn's aim, unsurprisingly, did not improve over the course of the next four arrows she fired. She didn't mind, though. Not too much, at least—for Eomer was doing no better, and all that mattered was that she didn't do worse than him. 

They went a few rounds like this, lining up and taking turns at shooting, but it didn't last very long. Soon everyone was complaining of tired arms, and the shots were getting wild because people were too lazy to hold their aim. So there was improvised a contest of sorts between Aragorn and Legolas: who could do the best trick shots, who could hit a moving target, who could make draw shapes with the arrows they fired. It was thoroughly impressive. Pippin volunteered to be the moving target, and Eowyn was horrified at first. This consisted of Pippin holding a small wooden circle in an outstretched hand and running back and forth across the green. No one else seemed concerned, and it became clear that this was regular practice--and also, that Aragorn and Legolas were so good at archery that no one need fear for the moving target's safety. Eowyn was somewhat mollified, but thought privately that only a bunch of teenage boys stuck in the woods together for weeks on end could come up with so stupid and idea. She hoped that none of them would get the inspiration to reenact the scene from William Tell.

When they returned to camp, it was still a bit too early for dinner, so Arwen led them in a series of yoga stretches to loosen up their muscles from the day's efforts. Eowyn found that she could not touch her toes, and found this mildly concerning. She resolved to stretch a bit every day to fix this. Arwen was as flexible as a dancer, and it was almost funny to see her gracefully folding and stretching limbs into absurd positions, while the rest of them around her gritted their teeth and tried not to pull a muscle.

Dinner was grilled fish tacos. Eowyn had not seen a grill around the cabins before, but there it was next to the picnic table. Gandalf stood over it wearing oven mitts and wielding tongs in one hand and a giant spatula in the other, the kind used for flipping burgers. Sam and Merry and the others watched eagerly as Eowyn prepared to take her first bite.

She lifted the taco to her mouth, then caught them all staring at her. "Can you please stop that?" she said, lowering the taco again. "It's freaking me out."

"We just want to see you try your first fresh fish!"

"Try saying that five times fast," muttered Eowyn. She tried again, but started giggling and couldn't take a bite. "Just--close your eyes or something. I'll make an exaggerated and obscene sound to let you know if I like it or not."

She did not make a sound, because she didn't like to do things like that, but the fish taco was indeed delicious, and she told her friends so. 

"I told you, there's nothing like it," said Sam. "You've got to try it with the mango salsa." He grabbed the jar of salsa from Pippin and started spooning it onto Eowyn's tacos.

"Do you want to be a chef or something? You seem to be a--oh, what's it called. A gastronomer?"

"He doesn't like learning about space," said Pippin.

Merry smacked him. "No, idiot. Gastro, not astro."

"Maybe I should just say foodie," continued Eowyn. "But it doesn't sound as professional."

"Sam's a good cook," said Frodo fondly. "He makes the best mashed potatoes I've ever tasted."

"What's the secret to perfect mashed potatoes?"

Sam launched into an explanation that carried them through the rest of dinner. By the end of it, Eowyn's head was spinning with thoughts of potato varieties, heavy cream versus whole milk, and the best way to prepare minced garlic (something about removing a germ?). 

"You'll have to make me some one day," she said. "We could have a reunion feast."

"I think I'd like that."

At 9:50, Eowyn was in her cabin, rifling through her tangled bedsheets to find the pajamas she had thrown somewhere in there that morning. Arwen was still at the locker rooms, showering and brushing her teeth. The rest of the night had been fairly uneventful: Gimli had built them another fire, and they sat around it in their little groups, chatting and eating from packages of Oreos. Apparently Gandalf did not like to bake, only cook, so if there were to be any desserts at camp, they had to be store-bought. The 10:00 curfew was earlier than it seemed on paper. Eowyn would have liked to stay out later with her new friends, but Gandalf was serious about the curfew--the only time it was broken was on the first night, with the fireworks, and the last night, which would have a similar celebration. At about 9:30, he appeared in the doorway of the big house like a specter, hovering passive-aggressively until the counselors noticed and instructed the others to start getting ready for bed.

Eowyn changed into her pajamas once she found them. She used her now-empty duffel bag as a sort of laundry basket, storing it under her bed. As she picked up her shorts from the floor to toss them in, something fell out of the pocket and clinked onto the floor before rolling farther under the bed. For a moment, Eowyn could not remember what had been in her pocket, but then it came to her: that golden ring she had found in the lake! She turned on her phone flashlight and flattened onto the ground, sweeping the light back and forth under her bed, hoping to see a flash of gold. There it was--pretty far back, unfortunately, but with some uncomfortable contortions, Eowyn was able to stick her leg under the bed and use her foot to drag the ring back out. She puffed off the dust bunnies it had accumulated after its short stay. 

She looked more closely now at the ring. It was entirely without decoration--or so she thought at first. True, there was no stone, but after running her finger along the band a bit, Eowyn realized that there was a faint inscription carved around the outside of the ring. The cuts were shallow and worn, so much so that she couldn't read what they might have said. They did look like letters, though. She wondered who might have left such a ring in a lake in the middle of nowhere.

Holding the ring, Eowyn noted the size. It seemed like it would probably fit her. She slid the ring onto her left index finger.

With a rush and a pop, all sound left the room. Eowyn could feel herself breathing hard, but she heard nothing. Her heart pulsed in her chest, in her fingers, in her calves. Every hair on her body stood on end. Slowly, the sound was returning, but it had taken on a strange quality. It sounded like she was underwater, listening to the burbled voices of people above the surface. Certain sounds took unusual precedence, with unusual clarity: the beating of her blood in her ears, the creak of her feet on the floorboards. And there was--yes, there was another voice, a multitude of voices, whispering indistinctly. Eowyn caught snatches of words here and there, but they didn't make sense to her. She turned in a slow circle. Her sight had changed, too. Her surroundings rippled like light on the lake, and when she looked at a fly on the ceiling fan, she swore she could see the patterns on its wings.

Her muscles felt light and her movements divorced from her mind, like her body moved of its own volition. She was turning, turning. Had it been a minute? Had it been a second? Was Arwen coming back? Eowyn knew she mustn't be seen like this. She mustn't be seen--

And then she looked at herself in the mirror over the wardrobe. Rather, she looked at the mirror over the wardrobe, expecting to see herself, but there was only Arwen's wardrobe behind her, and the wood-paneled wall. 

Eowyn stopped breathing and started again with a hiccup. Her hand floated up to touch her face. Yes, she could feel her face, but it was not there in the mirror. She stomped her foot: it made a sound, but there was no reflection.

One of the whispers rose to a hoarse shout: "Take it OFF!"

Eowyn yanked the golden ring off her finger and collapsed forward, catching herself on the edge of the wardrobe.

She thought with awful calmness, _It is a magic ring that I found in the lake_. Eowyn did not feel the need to try it on again to check. She trusted herself and her experience. It was indelible, what had just happened to her, and she knew she could not have made it up. And in any case, it had started when she put the ring on and stopped when she took the ring off. That was enough to imply causation in her mind. 

Eowyn stayed there, leaning on her wardrobe and breathing hard. Her mind reeled. It wasn't reeling anywhere useful or dredging up coherent thoughts; it was just sort of spinning around the phrase "I found a magic ring," and it didn't provide her with any analysis or plan of action. She looked at herself in the mirror. What a comfort to see her reflection--because a moment ago it wasn't there, like she was a vampire in a fantasy novel. That had been terrifying. Eowyn moved slowly, blinking this eye and the other, twisting her mouth to one side, up, down, making sure the picture in the mirror matched her movements. It did.

There was a sound at the door--Arwen, returning from the locker rooms. This had all taken place in less than ten minutes, because Arwen wouldn't break curfew. Eowyn hastily straightened and tucked the ring under her palm, flat on the top of the wardrobe. She pretended she was just inspecting her face in the mirror. She hoped that Arwen would not notice how fast and shallow she was still breathing.

Arwen said hello as she entered and went straight to her bed, carefully folding back the sheets so that she didn't undo the tight hospital corners at the bottom of the mattress. Eowyn folded the ring into her fist and walked to her bed, too, keeping the hand holding the ring behind her body, away from Arwen's gaze.

"Is there anything you want to do before lights out?" asked Arwen.

"Um," said Eowyn. She could not imagine doing anything right now except thinking, thinking. Was she supposed to chat with Arwen? What on earth would they talk about? "I'm actually sort of tired from everything today. And--and I didn't get that much sleep last night, so I was planning to just go right to sleep."

"That works for me. Do you want me to turn the light off now? I have a reading light I can use," Arwen said, leaning over the side of her bed to take a book and a clip-on light from her suitcase.

"If you don't mind, that would be nice."

"No problem at all." Arwen slid neatly out of bed and went to yank the chain that hung from the ceiling fan. 

Eowyn rolled over to face the wall. She knew she would not fall asleep. She just had to wait for Arwen to do so. So Eowyn waited, waited for the reading light to shut off and the breathing of her companion to slow and even. All the while, she felt the ring clenched in her hand, the metal smooth and warm as a body.


	4. Night Practice

Eowyn rolled over slowly and grabbed her phone off the nightstand in between the two bunk beds. It was, according to her phone clock, a few minutes after midnight. Arwen had turned off her reading light maybe half an hour to an hour after Eowyn had pretended to go to sleep, and it was an hour after that. She figured it was a safe bet that Arwen was fully asleep.

Rolling onto her back, Eowyn stared at the shadowy slats of the bunk above her. She had been doing a lot of thinking--a lot of thinking, two hours' worth of thinking. What she needed to do was put on the ring again. She couldn't say why she felt that this was the right thing to do--after all, after taking it off the first time, she had never wanted to put it back on again. But as the night wore on, Eowyn felt a growing need to investigate. This thing had come into her possession for a reason. It had called to her from the lake, and now she was entrusted with its strange power. The least she could do for whatever forces of destiny or the universe that had conspired to make this happen was to put effort into finding out exactly what she had been given.

Eowyn sat up very carefully, willing the mattress not to creak as she did so. It did not comply. She paused, listening for a change in the sound of Arwen's breathing, but there was none. The other girl remained a motionless lump of shadow in the rest of the shadowy cabin. So Eowyn folded back her sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet on the floor made the floorboards groan, but not too loudly, and she moved lightly to the door. She stopped in front of the door. This had not come up in her planning--she would need to lock and unlock it, to be fair to Arwen. It wouldn't be right to leave her sleeping in an unlocked cabin. That meant she needed her key, and pockets to carry it in. Eowyn wasted a few precious minutes and noises changing into jean shorts and finding her key in the dark. Then it was back to the door. She stopped there again, fingering the ring in her pocket. It was obvious to her that she would need to wear the ring if she wanted to sneak out--it made her invisible, after all. (It made her invisible!) But she was reluctant to submit herself to the strange sensations of it again. With a deep, steeling breath, Eowyn jammed the ring onto her finger.

The effect was immediate and disorienting. Now, in the absolute dead of night, the whispers seemed more insistent, although Eowyn could not understand what they were insisting about. The warped sounds pulsed in her ears, and her eyesight wavered. She took a few forceful inhales and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, she found herself more focused on the task at hand.

When she moved, it was easily and absently. Each step vaulted her forward seemingly without conscious effort, like when you get off a treadmill and are surprised to feel yourself actually moving from place to place. Eowyn unlocked the door and swung it open, moving out onto the porch, and shut and locked it behind her.

The night outside was full of new noises, different from the ones she could hear inside her cabin. The points of the stars in the sky were sharper and closer. For the first time, Eowyn could tell which ones were red and which were blue, something she had learned about in some science class and never experienced. Each crater on the moon traced its path in full relief. She moved like a wraith over the grass, out of the comforting solid square of cabins, toward the path that would lead her to the lake.

The decision to go to the lake was another unexplainable one. It had seemed necessary to go back to where she had found the ring. Somewhere in Eowyn's mind, the part that was her without the ring, she was truly afraid: of the dark, of things going bump in the night, of falling into the lake and drowning with no one to save her. But the part of her mind that the ring shared was confident, and it propelled her along the path without hesitation. She felt like she belonged with the creatures of the night.

So blue in the daytime, the water of the lake was now black and shiny as obsidian. The moon cut sharp highlights over the shallow waves, which lapped quietly at the shore. Eowyn made her way to the water's edge. There was, of course, no reflection of her, not even a shadow blocking the moonlight. The water was not as cold as it had been, or it did not feel as cold to Eowyn now. Her body was beyond its normal temperature, although in which direction she couldn't quite tell. She bent over to trace patterns on the surface with her fingers, enjoying the silky feeling of the water.

Eowyn did not quite know what to do now. She was in the place where she had found the ring--yes, she had made the trek all the way around to the boat shed, even as that part of her balked at the thought of a single minute more in the dark forest. Creatures had skittered over the path and rustled in the underbrush, but nothing confronted her. She was sure this was because of the ring. Eowyn did not know what to do, but she thought the ring would. And it did.

The voices whispered amongst themselves for minutes--maybe more--and Eowyn only waited, acclimating herself to the sensation of ring-wearing. Eventually, one voice drowned out the others. It spoke at a more normal volume, words that Eowyn did not consciously understand but whose meanings she intuited. They told her of power, of power unseen by this world for centuries. They told her of this power within reach, and of how to begin reaching for it. The voice fed her images--it spoke them to her mind, somehow--of herself awash in a sort of energetic glow, something invisible to the naked eye but visible to the mind's eye, and tangible, too.

Eowyn reached.

She made her way back to the cabin an indeterminate amount of time later. The moon had crept across the sky and was closer to setting than when she had started, but the first blush of sunrise had not yet colored the horizon. Eowyn walked concentratedly along the forest paths, her body tingling with the energy of the ring, which she still wore. She felt like an alien, somehow, when she reached into her pocket for the key to unlock the cabin door. She had just been so much more than the girl who arrived here two days ago, and she was still more--still awash in that power--and yet forced to do mundane things like unlock a door with a key. _Well_ , she thought distantly, _perhaps it won't be long before I don't need to do that sort of thing anymore_.

Eowyn placed her key on top of the wardrobe and changed back into pajama pants, realizing that her legs were not wet, even though she had been standing in the water. She climbed into bed with the ring still on. This time, it was not so desirable to take it off. She had grown used to the whispers and the warping of her environment, and more than that, she was beginning to like it. But Eowyn knew that it wouldn't do to be discovered as an invisible solid in her bed, so she slid off the ring and stowed it under her pillow. She barely had time to think before sleep overcame her, but one thought did enter her mind in that time: it sounded like the ring was humming.

An astonishing commotion woke Eowyn. She struggled in her tangled sheets to sit upright, disoriented by the sunlight and the clanging noise that filled her ears. She was bone-tired, and her eyes did not want to open.

After several seconds of confusion, the details fell into place and Eowyn remembered exactly what was going on: Gandalf was ringing the breakfast cowbell. She groaned and scrubbed at her eyes, trying to rid them of the crust that had developed in her few hours of sleep. She had not checked the time when she returned, but it must have been very late--or very early, rather.

Arwen was not in the cabin at the moment--Eowyn guessed she had gone to freshen up. This gave Eowyn a little time to figure out better storage for her ring. She was sort of amazed at herself that she was going about the morning so calmly, for there was a part of her brain that was almost shouting: "Magic ring! You were doing magic in the middle of the woods last night!" But the more practical part of her brain had taken over and was forcing a semblance of normalcy over her actions. Eowyn thought the underwear drawer was a little too cliche, so she took a pair of socks, wrapped the ring carefully inside--just touching it sent shocks of memory coursing through her; she could almost feel the power--and tucked it under a pile of her shorts in the lowest drawer. _There,_ she thought. _No one ever hides things in the pants drawer_. Not that there was really a need to hide it. Was there a need to hide it? It was unlikely that Arwen would go snooping through her stuff for any reason. Eowyn had earned no suspicion last night, as she had been so careful to do everything when Arwen was fast asleep. But just in case. The ring was not something she wanted others to stumble upon--to take from her.

Eowyn changed hastily then, throwing on her usual comfortable and functional clothing. She tipped out her water bottle and used the dribble that came out to splash on her face and clear the sleep from her eyes. She tore a brush through her hair, which made the waves frizzy, so she put it in a braid down her back.

Now all that she had left to do was act normal for the rest of the day.

This morning's breakfast was very different from the one yesterday. Instead of being the first to arrive, she was the last. Eowyn was pleased to see that Merry had saved her a seat in between him and Pippin. Their faces lit up when they saw her, which she thought was sweet, given that it had only been a night since they last were together.

Eomer looked her up and down as she sat. "You look awful," he said.

Eowyn glared at him. "Thanks a lot. You need to shave." She accepted a stack of pancakes from Sam and searched for the butter pot. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"Well, it shows."

Eowyn rolled her eyes and turned away, pointedly joining Merry's conversation with the other boys.

"Your brother's sort of rude to you," observed Frodo.

"That's just what brothers are like. Any of you have brothers? No? Well, it's how you know they love you." Eowyn blinked at her fork and knife, which were swimming in and out of focus almost like things did when she wore the ring--except at the moment, she was just tired. "He's good to me, really. But he has to act like he doesn't like me, because it isn't cool for brothers to like their sisters."

"I think it would be nice to have siblings," said Frodo. "Someone to keep you company."

"It is nice," agreed Eowyn. "I wouldn't survive at home without him." She glanced up and saw that this had caused Frodo to look at her concernedly. Not wanting to launch into the delightful topic of their home life on such a promising morning, she changed the subject. "What's it like over in the boys' cabin? It's so quiet with just me and Arwen."

"Fun!" said Pippin, at the same time that Sam said, "Hell."

"I see we've reached a consensus."

"It's too crowded," said Sam. "Any space feels smaller when you've got both of these idiots in it."

Pippin threw a blueberry at him. "You would be miserable without us."

"I would be well-rested, is what I would be."

"Do you... like... do things together?" asked Eowyn.

"Sometimes we play board games. Or video games. Or wrestling."

"You wrestle?" Eowyn was incredulous.

"Yeah, Boromir's on the team at his school, and Gimli used to be, and they teach us moves."

"Isn't that--I don't know--dangerous? Without all the mats and things? Protective gear?"

"Oh, no one's gotten hurt too badly," said Merry.

"I once jumped onto Boromir from the top bunk. Like it was WWE or something," said Pippin, his eyes shining at the memory. "It was a glorious moment."

"I mostly try to stay out of their way," said Frodo, shaking his head.

"I do sort of wish we were allowed to mingle. Before lights out, you know." Eowyn looked over to where Arwen was sitting, talking to Boromir and Eomer. "I'm not exactly friends with her yet."

Sam nodded wisely. "Some of the counselors are difficult to be friends with, exactly. It's like trying to be friends with a god or something. Better to have some normal people to hang out with."

"Aragorn's been nice to me," Eowyn said without thinking. Then she blushed, and took a sip of orange juice to try to hide it. The boys tactfully ignored it.

"You should have some of the mangoes," said Sam. "They're really good today."

"I don't like mango very much, actually."

"Don't like mango!" Sam sounded indignant.

"Sorry, I have very basic taste in fruits."

“You liked the salsa from last night!”

“I ate it--there’s a difference.”

"I'll convert you--if it's the last thing I do, I'll convert you."

Over the course of breakfast, Eowyn drank three cups of coffee, spacing them out so that hopefully, no one would notice and become concerned about her well-being. She wasn't a particular fan of coffee--not even with cream and sugar added. Warm milky drinks made her feel sick to her stomach, so she just gritted her teeth and drank it black. The idea was that it would restore her to a normal level of functionality despite her exhausting night.

The day was so warm that without any discussion, really, they reached a consensus that the day was to be spent at the lake. Eowyn and Arwen went back to their cabin to put on swimsuits underneath their clothes. Eowyn took a small drawstring bag from her duffel and began stuffing it with the essentials: sunscreen, a change of underwear, her water bottle. Arwen had already finished and was ready to go.

"Coming?" she asked.

"In a minute. You go on out, I just need to find--one more thing," said Eowyn. Once Arwen had left, she took out the ring from its hiding place and put it in her pocket, the super small one that comes with some jeans. She had always been baffled by those tiny pockets. What were you supposed to put in there? Two quarters, maybe? But now it made perfect sense to her. The pocket was precisely ring-sized.

During breakfast, Eowyn had convinced herself that it was necessary to retrieve the ring and keep it with her at all times. The ring was precious to her--she couldn't just leave it there in the pants drawer, where anything might happen to it. The door to the cabin wasn't particularly difficult to unlock, since the door was so ancient. And any smart thief wouldn't confine herself to the usual hiding places; she would look everywhere to find a treasure like the ring. Yes, it was safest to keep the ring with her.

Once Eowyn joined them, the motley caravan departed once again for the lake, taking the now-familiar trail. Eowyn hoped that they would get a chance to explore the other trails that branched off from the campsite. One of the sign posts was labeled "Caves," which both intrigued and scared her. Perhaps she would don the ring and head out there one night. Surely then she would be okay. 

Looking at the lake path in daylight, the memory of the nighttime walk was absurd to Eowyn. Without the ring bolstering her confidence, she realized how terrifying it really was to walk through a forest in the dead of night. What things had she passed in there? Were there wolverines in this part of the country? She had read about them, and they sounded absolutely vicious.

Eowyn realized that with all this thinking and daydreaming about the ring, she had been in a sort of reverie for the whole walk. Sam, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin were chattering around her, but she hadn't a clue what they were talking about. She looked up and caught Aragorn turning away from her. Had he been looking at her? All of a sudden Eowyn's heart beat much faster.

She was slowly coming to the realization that coffee did not have magical tiredness-erasing powers. Rather, it took her tired self and sort of accelerated it. Eowyn felt as awful as she had upon waking up, but her body and mind were going fast, fast, fast--so in fact, she felt more awful than she had when she woke up.

The lake had actually warmed in the past day; that's how hot it was. Everyone was drenched in sweat from the hike it took to get there. Eowyn retrieved a towel from the storage shed, coughing at the must and dust that billowed off it when she shook it out. When she laid her things out on it, she came upon a dilemma. Of course, she would have to take her shorts off to swim. Well--she didn't have to, but it would be smart to, if she didn't want to have a wet butt for the rest of the day. And people would probably be suspicious of her for swimming with shorts on. Were they already suspicious? _No_ , Eowyn chided herself, _get a grip. That's just the coffee talking._

She took off her shorts and patted the pocket to make sure the ring was still there. Yes, it was, as round and hard and reassuring as ever. Eowyn rolled up her shorts very tightly and put them in her bag. It should be safe there. _It will be safe there,_ she told herself.

Today, everyone went in the water. There was simply no other option--unless, of course, you counted roasting alive on the rocks as an option. With all of them swimming together in the lake, there were plenty of games to be played. They touched on classics: Marco Polo (which was a lot harder in a lake than in a pool), keep away, sharks and minnows, even (which required two people to sit out of the game and act as distance markers). And they invented new ones on the fly. Eowyn felt younger than she had in years, taken back to the days when Uncle would take Eomer and her to the pool and the two of them would splash for hours, improvising games and stories to keep themselves entertained.

Eowyn dutifully slogged out of the lake every hour or so to reapply her sunscreen, followed by Arwen, Sam, and Frodo. The rest of the boys really couldn't be bothered, even though Eowyn threatened her brother with skin cancer and premature wrinkles. The sun pounded overhead. Most people did their best to keep as much of their bodies under the surface of the water as was possible, to avoid the burning rays. When lunchtime rolled around, they retreated into the trees for shade. Aragorn had brought with them on the way a cooler full of sandwiches and drinks. Eowyn gulped her lemonade desperately. Even these few minutes spent out of the water were quickly becoming unbearable.

For the first half of the day, the activity in the lake and the boost from lunch had chased away some of the tiredness Eowyn felt. But as the day wore on, she found herself becoming less and less focused. Her head was pounding and her muscles felt made of taffy, so useless were they becoming. The fatigue plus the hours of swimming were taking their toll. She spent most of her time flipping between a back float and a dead man's float, putting her face in the water whenever she felt it was about to start burning.

So it was that the time to leave came about without Eowyn really realizing it. She merely followed her friends back to shore, too absent to join in their conversations, missing also some of the concerned glances Sam and Frodo sent her way. She dried off with the musty towel and unrolled her clothes that she had stored in her drawstring bag. Blissfully, a few clouds had formed in the sky, easing the intensity of the sunlight. Before, the sky had been a sharp and unforgiving cerulean; now clouds would drift across the sun and give the walkers a brief respite. Eowyn registered dimly the changes in lighting and temperature.

They had not gone very far when Eowyn put her hand into her pocket and felt--nothing. She patted her hip. There was no bump, no evidence of the ring. Suddenly, she felt much more awake. She tried the other pocket--maybe she had put it there and somehow forgotten? It was possible, given how hazy her brain had been all day. But no, there was no ring there, either. Panic welled up in Eowyn's throat. How could she have lost the ring? After just a day of having it, too. Her brain instantly started running scenarios--someone had gone through her bag and stolen it. No, at all times, everyone had been either in the lake with her or eating lunch with her. It would have been too obvious to miss. Maybe she had hallucinated the entire thing. No, that was just silly--and frankly, too unsettling to give much thought to. That left one last option: the ring had fallen out of her pocket. Yes, but where, where? A thought struck Eowyn: it was just in her drawstring bag! It had just fallen to the bottom! With a bloom of hope, she swung the bag to her front so she could rifle around in it. But though she searched every corner and seam, she felt no ring. Then, she realized, the ring must have fallen out when she was changing.

Eowyn stopped dead. The others, who were still walking, looked at her in confusion. She started to walk backwards.

"Is everything okay, Eowyn?" asked Arwen.

"Yes--I just--I forgot something back at the lake."

"Oh--we can go back, then."

"No, no, please don't," said Eowyn quickly. She didn't want anyone else to see the ring. "I can just go back on my own. It'll be quick. You can keep walking."

"Do you know your way back?" said Aragorn. He seemed concerned.

"Yeah, I've got it. Ah--if you don't see me in two hours, send out a search party, will you?" she said, trying to be flippant. It did not have the desired effect on her companions. "I'll be fine, really."

"One of us can stay with you."

"Please no! Just keep walking. It's too hot to stand around and bicker."

Aragorn and Arwen looked at each other and shrugged.

"Don't be too long, Eowyn," said Aragorn seriously. But he led the campers on down the trail, leaving Eowyn on her own in the forest.

She turned and began walking back the way they had just come, and, after checking over her shoulder to make sure the others were out of sight, she broke into a run. It was something unconscious that drove her. The need for the ring--it had taken over quickly. But it was a powerful object, she told herself. You didn't want to leave that sort of thing just lying around. She would be its keeper, making sure no one used it for suspicious purposes.

Suspicious. Eowyn cursed at herself internally as she jogged. She had not handled the situation well. All she had done was freak everyone out. Returning to camp was going to be the worst--they would all be looking at her. Oh god, they might even ask her what she had left behind that was so important. No, no. They hadn't asked when she first brought it up. They probably didn't care. She was probably being paranoid.

"Remind me," Eowyn gasped to no one as she ran, "to never ever drink coffee again." Surely that's what was messing with her mind.

She was drenched in sweat by the time she arrived at the lake. Eowyn looked over the shore, trying to remember approximately where she had put her towel. It was closer to the path than to the shed, closer to the lake than to the treeline... She would just have to do this very methodically. Mentally marking out a rectangle inside which the ring probably lay, Eowyn began to walk up and down, back and forth. She had only made four or five passes when a gleam of gold caught her eye.

"Oh thank god," said Eowyn, falling to her knees and scooping up the ring. She turned it this way and that, inspecting for any--she didn't know, scratches? But the ring was as flawless as it ever had been. She toyed with the idea of wearing it, just for the walk back, but decided against it. Instead, she put the ring in her pocket and vowed to make absolutely sure it stayed there. Before heading back onto the path, Eowyn crouched at the edge of the lake and splashed some water on her face, neck, and arms. She was going to look a sweaty mess for the rest of the day. But it didn't bother her, really. The ring was securely back in her pocket.

As she walked back to camp alone, Eowyn kept patting her leg where the ring was stored. A quick tap, and she would feel the hard metal underneath the fabric of her shorts. It calmed her. With the ring safe, she could even appreciate the beauty of the woods: bright summer-green leaves, spongy moss, filtered sunlight. It was nice to walk in the woods alone. She understood why Aragorn went on his hikes. To simply exist with your thoughts, accompanied by the organic noises of the woods--it was so different from life outside of camp. It almost feels like a dream already, thought Eowyn. My life before this. A bad dream, that is.

When she got back to camp, no one was to be seen outside. That was odd. Eowyn listened for any shouting or laughter, but she could hear none. She felt a little miffed. Aragorn had seemed all concerned about her safety letting her go back alone, and how they had gone and left without telling her! _Well,_ she thought, _maybe I can go off on my own and try on the ring again_. Suddenly, being left behind didn't sound so bad at all.

But just then the door to the big house banged open, and Boromir, Merry, and Pippin came out.

"Eowyn!" Pippin shouted as he saw her. She waved and went over to meet them.

"So you didn't get eaten by a bear," said Boromir. "Find what you needed?"

"Yeah, I had just left ... something by where my towel was. Of course, the only problem was remembering where I had had my towel. But I got it," said Eowyn, hoping she was not saying too much, "and I'm good now."

"Listen," said Boromir, and there was a shift in the tone of his voice that worried Eowyn, "everyone's in the big house right now because the wifi came on. It does that very rarely, see, so it's sort of an event when it happens."

"Okay?"

"Eomer got--well, he got a message. From your uncle's secretary or someone? But I think he needs to talk to you about it."

Eowyn's blood went cold. Grima had contacted Eomer? Nothing good could come of that. "Thanks for telling me," she said.

"Are you alright?" asked Boromir, looking at her closely.

"We'll see," said Eowyn.

Without thinking, Eowyn slid her hand into her pocket and felt for the ring. It was warm, almost hot to the touch. The smooth metal steeled her nerves. _Three days,_ she thought mournfully. _Not even three days and he's already sticking his ugly face back into our lives._

The big house was almost as hot as the outdoors, only much louder, because it had about ten ineffectual fans rumbling and whining from various stations around the first floor. Most of the campers were in the living room. Eomer was not.

"Eowyn, you're back," said Aragorn, looking up at her arrival. "Did you find everything okay?"

"Yes, thanks," she said. "Boromir said that Eomer--"

"He's in the kitchen." Aragorn twisted his mouth slightly to one side. "I hope everything's alright. He looked--" But Aragorn broke off there. Eowyn didn't really want to talk anyway. She turned left and found Eomer leaning over the sink. His back was to her, but she could see in the line of his shoulders that he was upset.

"Eomer?"

He stood upright then and turned to face her. The expression on his face confirmed Eowyn's fears that something was very wrong. Eomer kept scrunching his nose up, in the way that he did when he was trying not to cry. It had been years, Eowyn realized, since she had seen him cry.

"Boromir said that Grima called you."

"He emailed me. Stupid old man. He sent it yesterday, but I only got it today, with the wifi."

"What's going on?"

Eomer scrubbed angrily at his nose. He wasn't meeting Eowyn's eyes. "Uncle is sick."

It felt like a wet river stone had settled into Eowyn's stomach. "How sick? He wasn't doing great before we left, but--"

"Very sick." Eomer took a shuddering breath. "Apparently he went in for a test before we left and they just got the results. Actually, they got the results a day before we left. He never told us."

"Eomer," said Eowyn, and the floor seemed to spin beneath her suddenly. "If he--"

"I know," said Eomer. "I know."

"Well--can we go back? Surely he needs us. We have to be there if he, well, you know."

"Grima won't let us," said Eomer dully. "He said so in the email. I didn't even get to ask. He said Uncle wanted us to be here for the summer so he wouldn't have to worry about taking care of us while he's sick. Grima said we'd be too much of a burden. We'd--strain him. Like he's some fucking Victorian child with consumption who isn't allowed to play outside." 

"But we have to be with him!"

"How are we going to get back, Eowyn?" said Eomer, and this was the worst of it--that Eomer wasn't fighting it. "There's no way for us to get back. And I swear, Grima will just send us away even if we manage to get there. He has--he said something about legal guardianship. That if Uncle isn't physically or mentally able to be our guardian, he's relegated the legal responsibility to Grima."

"Fuck," said Eowyn. She clutched at her hair. "Fuck! He really--God, Eomer, we're absolutely fucked."

"I know." Eomer went to Eowyn and hugged her tightly. She buried her face in his shoulder and stayed there for a while.

Eventually, Eomer said, "You're so sweaty."

"Oh come on," said Eowyn, but the tension was broken. Quietly, into his shoulder she murmured, "What are we going to do?"

"There isn't much to be done. We have to live with it. We can--maybe we can send him emails or postcards or something. But the doctors will be taking care of him. We were never going to be the ones to save him, Eowyn."

"I didn't think I could," said Eowyn, "but he deserves to have his family helping him along."

"We'll do our best."

When they emerged from the kitchen into the living room, Eowyn had the distinct impression that they were seeing a hastily composed tableau intended to make it look like everyone had not just been listening to their conversation. She didn't have the heart to be annoyed. It was a small camp, and the news was bound to get out somehow. Everyone ignored Eomer and Eowyn, or at least tried to treat them normally, but there was a hint of eggshell-fragility around the whole affair. Eowyn felt that with one well-placed tap, she could break the whole veneer.

The rest of the day was not good, to say the least. The other campers acted like it was business as usual, which for them it was, but their smiles looked forced and the cheer in their voices sounded false whenever they addressed Eomer or Eowyn. Merry and Pippin, at least, were up to their usual antics. For that, Eowyn was grateful. They joked and teased and bickered while Sam and Frodo shot them pointed glances, as if trying to warn them about how Eowyn was feeling. But she would rather be teased than comforted. If anyone tried to hug her--or god forbid, ask if she was okay--she was absolutely certain she would burst into tears. Eowyn hated crying, and hated crying in front of people more than just about anything in the world.

_Besides_ , she told herself, _it will be okay. Uncle will get better._ She hated to agree with Grima, but his reasoning sort of made sense, if she twisted her mind to fit his: without children to worry about, Uncle could just focus on recuperation. She didn't want to burden him with worry. It was what she had to tell herself, otherwise she might just force Aragorn to take her back to the road and then she would walk back to Rohan on her own two feet, Grima be damned. Eowyn was walking a thin wire at the moment.

She was relieved when night fell and curfew loomed. No more having to hitch up a smile for social interactions. She could take a little nap, maybe, and then take the ring out to the woods again and forget all about this for a while. At one point during the day, Eowyn had considered that it might be best for her to get a full night's sleep, given the emotional taxation of the day. But she needed--well, she needed some power at the moment. And luckily for her, she had a magic ring that could give her just that.

The only obstacle, of course, was Arwen.

"Hey," said Arwen, once they were alone in the cabin after curfew, and Eowyn could see the conversation was headed downhill very quickly. "It seemed like you got some bad news today."

Eowyn said, "Yeah," and failed to elaborate, hoping that Arwen would get the hint.

"Is it anything I--or any of us--can help with? I know I'm your counselor, technically, but I'm also here to be your friend. I'm barely any older than you, anyway."

"Eh," said Eowyn, and she could hear in her own voice the threat of tears. "I don't really want to talk about it at the moment."

"I understand. If you ever do, though, I'm here."

"Thanks." Eowyn got into bed and pulled the covers over herself. Arwen quietly did the same. Then Eowyn said, "My uncle is sick." She didn't know why. She hadn't been planning to say anything.

"Oh, Eowyn. I'm so sorry."

It was a strange thing, Eowyn thought, that when you said someone was sick, people understood somehow that it didn't mean they had a cold, or the flu. Perhaps because those sicknesses aren't dramatic enough to merit telling anyone about them, so you know that if someone mentions a sickness, it has to be bad. "Yeah. Thanks," she said again.

"Do you... are you close to him?"

That was one of the least perceptive things she had heard Arwen say thus far. "We live with him."

"I'm so sorry," repeated Arwen. She at least seemed able to infer the implied fate of Eowyn's actual parents, and likewise able to infer that now was not the time to bring them up. "I'll always be here if you need anything."

"That means a lot," said Eowyn. And it was a nicety; it was the prescribed and accepted response; but Eowyn found she actually meant it. These people had just met her, after all.

"Anything at all," said Arwen. Eowyn nodded, even though she wasn't looking at Arwen and wasn't sure if Arwen was looking at her. But that seemed to be the accepted end to the conversation. 

Arwen correctly decided that this was to be another early night, with lights out long before the required lights-out time. Eowyn rolled over to face the wall and turned on her phone, lowering the brightness so as not to disturb her companion. She set an alarm for midnight--a quiet alarm, just the vibrating kind, so it would only wake her and not Arwen. Then she fell asleep. It happened almost before she even set her mind to falling asleep. Sometimes the body takes over.

Eowyn awoke with a start, the buzzing under her cheek forcing her out of her slumber. She fumbled a bit trying to turn off the alarm, mentally swearing all the while, and finally got it to shut off. She rolled over and stared through the darkness at the indistinct blob that was Arwen. The blob looked asleep. Eowyn figured she was good to go.  
She had left the ring in her shorts pocket, her shorts in the drawer, and the drawer slightly open--just enough that she could pull that specific pair of shorts out without having to open the drawer fully and make a crap ton of noise. In the second before she reached into the pocket, Eowyn imagined briefly that the ring had disappeared again, and the spike of panic it produced was sharp and strong. But then her fingers closed around the metal--still warm, somehow--and her fear subsided once more.

When Eowyn slid the ring onto her finger, it was like a wash of warm water. She felt calm this time, not disoriented. It still changed her, and changed the world around her, but on this night, the waving of her surroundings and the muted sounds only added to the sensation of being submerged in a warm bath. The voices whispering seemed to Eowyn like old friends, companions to comfort her after a trying day. She moved wraithlike to the door, unlocking it, opening, closing, and locking it again in one smooth motion.  
The night air was blissfully cooler than the day had been. It was still warm, being summer, after all, but it felt perfectly calibrated to the temperature of her skin, so that the breeze that blew across her face was a natural caress. Eowyn's feet carried her to the lake calmly, easily. She let the darkness soothe her worries, erase the thoughts about Grima and Uncle. 

At the lake, Eowyn sat at the shoreline, legs out so that the waves lapped just over her feet and ankles. The rocks dug into her skin, but she didn't mind them. She took a deep breath and let the voices settle themselves, let the one voice come to the forefront again.

"Reach, Eowyn," it said, and she reached within herself.

It was a surprise again--only the second time finding the power when she reached. But it was a delicious surprise, and the feeling of the power once she touched it was inviting, intriguing. Somehow it reminded her of playing with putty or clay--the way it was malleable, and useful, and how her fingers itched to mold and squeeze and create.

Eowyn was unsure if there were limits to the power. She was unsure if it came from the ring, or if the ring only revealed it. Somehow, she suspected it was the latter. The ring was a key to unlock what had always been inside her. 

The first thing the power could do was make her invisible. It did that without being asked. Could she wear the ring and not be invisible? Perhaps. That was something to explore another time. Eowyn found that she liked being invisible. In a way, she always had been, as the younger daughter. That used to bother her: being next to golden Eomer, the boy with the future, with hopes and expectations piled on top of him. The ring's invisibility, however, Eowyn appreciated. Because it was invisibility she could use. It served her instead of swallowing her.

Eowyn listened to the voices as they whispered. She followed their murmurs as a leaf tossed into a stream, drifting with the current, purposeless yet with a clear trajectory. Eowyn let the voices guide her fingers as she shaped the power. They never said exactly what she was making, but Eowyn could feel a distinct potential energy fill the air around her. Let go, let go, whispered the voices. At first, she couldn’t figure out how to let go. Greedy for the feeling of magic, her mind was holding tight. The ring supplied an image to Eowyn: a rubber band, stretched tight. She imagined herself plucking it, so that it shivered like a violin string. A high, tense note rang in her ears, and then the rubber band snapped.

The power rushed out of her in a wave. Eowyn gasped as it carved a wake through the waves in front of her. The air thrilled with dissipating magic. Again, again, clamored the voices. I could do this forever, thought Eowyn.

It seemed that she only blinked, but something had changed about the night. Eowyn stared into the sky and saw the barest glow on the horizon. Her own voice, clear and forcefully mundane, cut through the ring-whispers in her thoughts. I am so fucked, it said. She’d been out all night again. It was time to get back. If only the ring could cure sleep deprivation. Maybe it was a power she hadn’t unlocked yet. Unfortunately, the only way to unlock it would be with more practice, which meant more sleepless nights.

Eowyn stood and brushed off her pants. When she turned to head back into the woods, she jumped. Fifty pairs of glowing eyes studded the treeline. The creatures were smallish--raccoons? Opossums? They disappeared back into the dark when Eowyn took a hesitant step toward them, rustling away into the brush. Could they see her? She was still invisible, she thought. Or at least she was still wearing the ring. Fear not, said the voices. And Eowyn remembered that she did not fear the woods. The ring made her a creature of the woods. A lord of the woods.

The trees were full of eyes as Eowyn stalked down the path back to the cabins.


End file.
